


Exactly What You Wish

by LucyHatesJosh4Eva



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Because I hate that guy, Bridges are romantic, But Leia is still around kicking some ass, Can no one talk about the feels?, Dancing, Did I already say FEELS?, Eventual Smut, F/M, Feels, Fisticuffs, Han predeceased the story, Happy Ending, Heartbreak, Lots of Carbs, Making Out, Oh god the sex, Oral Sex, Pining, Prince!Ben Solo, Roma | Rome, Roman Holiday, Secrets, Sex, Slow Burn, Space nerds, Use Your Words, alternating pov, espresso, journalist!Rey, no Snoke, pastry, sad face, vespas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-08-04 15:47:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 27,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16349573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucyHatesJosh4Eva/pseuds/LucyHatesJosh4Eva
Summary: Rey Niima loves her job at Rome’s underground expat blog, La Resistenza. When she picks up a stranger outside a bar, she has no idea that he’s her assignment for the next day, Prince Benjamin Solo of Naboo. She refuses to quit on her article, or on the confusing, real man at the center of it. But as she ferries him around the city, she can’t help wondering if there is more to his story.This borrows respectfully and with joy and love from Roman Holiday.





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 Three glossy postcards landed with a flop in front of Rey Niima.

“Prague, Beijing, and Nebraska. Nice spread this time, Peanut!” her best friend Finn tosses over his shoulder as he delivers the day’s mail.

She grabs the cards and swivels towards a departing Finn and the rest of _La Resistenza_ newsroom. Not that it’s much of a newsroom; Finn’s retreating back represents their entire photojournalism department. She can see the other writer, Jessika Pavka, their office manager and IT guru Rose, and Finn’s boyfr--- _fiance_ , she mentally corrects herself -- fiance and editor Poe Dameron from her squeaky rolling chair. The paper used to be one of the biggest English-language prints in Rome when Poe’s parents owned it. They retired to Sardinia right before print media hit the tubes, and forty percent of the local rags had closed down. Poe kept the lights on with quick thinking and a bold strategy; since most of their readership was trendy expats, tourists, and travel voyeurs, he took _La Resistenza_ online and added in-depth travel and culture features to their scaled-back news coverage. Poe recruited Rey,a fellow Rome transplant, to bolster the local features angle right after she turned 20.

Rey looks down at the postcards in her hands, and fills with pride at what their rag-tag band has accomplished. They aren’t the biggest fish in the pond, but their efforts to focus on small businesses and Roman artisans though profiles and reviews have made them favorites of local baristas, waitresses, and chefs in every pocket of the city. Their readers come back over and over, and fill the comments sections with cheerful banter. People believe in them, trust them, want to be their friends. The staff’s Instagram accounts exploded once they linked them to their bylines, and Rey has developed a diminutive but loyal cult following of her #pastaislife series.

 _Those people,_  Rey thinks, shuffling the cards, _are my people._

Travelers from all over the world come to Rome, and Rey feels like she meets them all. Anytime she meets someone from a new place, she asks them to send her a postcard from their hometown when they return, care of _La Resistenza._ “Maybe I could make it my home, too,” she always teases them. The tourists laugh, wondering aloud who would ever want to leave the city, but the thread of truth in the joke makes Rey uneasy. Rome isn’t her home. A home is where your family is, and she doesn’t have either.

When her parents died in a car accident on A90 when she was 12, Rey was very lost, and very nearly homeless. Social services didn't  care about a half British, half American kid who didn't even go to public school. After a nomadic childhood, she had no friends in the city, and no family, and no idea what to do besides stay exactly where she was. Her parents’ landlady, Maz, had taken her in, but it wasn’t the same. Maz was wise and kind, but she wasn’t family, not any more than the horrible Plutt family that spread like a plague across the building’s first floor was her family.  Covering stories for the blog, she met tourists from every corner of the earth, and when they boasted about their homes, her mind would wander to traveling, to moving, to leaving forever. But the thought of leaving the last place she had a family stills her every time a glossy postcard looks too tempting. So, she is still in Rome after fourteen years, still under Maz’s roof, in a tiny dormer studio under the south eaves. Still alone.

“Rey.”

Fingers snap under her nose.

“Earth to Rey! I have an assignment for you! Bigwig royal in town, and I want  you to cover his route for…” Poe pauses, catching a glimpse of her face, and raises his eyebrows in a silent query.

Rey shakes her head. Squares her shoulders. Beams a smile at him. “Copy that, Red Leader. What’s the angle?”

__________

 _Naboo is too freaking small_ , Ben thinks, huffing out a breath and flopping his head back against the town car’s back seat.

Next to him, Chewy raises a single thick brow, but says nothing.

They are on time today, as always. Ben thinks he has been on time for every second of his entire life. On time to fencing lessons. On time to French tutoring. And Italian. And Mandarin. On time to parades, on time to royal balls, on time to mortifyingly boring Senate meetings. On time to every class at boarding school, to every roll call in basic and on deployment, to every state dinner.

On time to his father’s funeral.

When King Consort Han Solo of Naboo died, the papers were all plastered with the same photo. Crown Prince Benjamin Chewbacca Organa Solo, in severe military dress, looking bereft, towering over his tiny mother Queen Leia. He still remembers the way her braided hair felt under his fingertips in that moment  as he pressed her head into his chest, and she was crippled by sobs. She cried that hard for days. The photographer, that bastard, managed to capture his father’s hearse retreating, its metric ton of flowers and military escort artistically out of focus. It’s the picture they show on the news everytime they talked about his family. Ben hates it.

That photo over, and over, every day, is what sent him on … well, his mother calls it a bender when they argue. He calls it a “period of self-exploration.” Which is a nice way to say a bender. Instead of stoically stepping into the gap at his mother’s side when Han died, Ben decided to be late for once. Then twice. He left the army, and decided that punctuality was vastly overrated. On his most notorious day of dilatism, Ben was assisted in his tardiness by three bottles of gin, a show jumping horse named Lucifer, and several members of the Naboo National Ballet Company. That one had ended with him naked in a fountain, and the headlines gleefully made puns about “the royal jewels” for weeks. That was the other picture they showed on the news when they talked about him.

He was surprised when Leia didn’t come down and personally drag his sorry, bare ass out of that fountain. She sent Chewy instead. His dad’s best friend handed him a trench coat and a fedora that he was pretty sure was Dad’s, and led him out the back door of the police station without a word. All the words came once he got back to the palace, where his mother was waiting, arms crossed.

When she saw him, she pointed to a chair, and started ranting. Waving her arms, pacing, using words like “displacement” and “repressing,” she laid out every single theory about grief and media pressure and expectations that Ben could find no logical, but every egotistical, reason to disagree with. She even brought up Armitage. Jesus, he hated Armitage Hux. That ginger weasel would take over the country if the Senate declined to confirm Ben as the next king, and Armitage never missed an opportunity to remind him of it. The thought was sobering. Had he done enough damage this time to warrant _Armitage_ talk?

He tuned back in to his mother’s diatribe, patiently reflecting on all the years Han waited for Leia to run out of steam before trying to get a word in. Eventually, the flow of invectives stopped, and she dropped to her knees in front of him, cradling his cheek in her hand.

“I know this has been hard,” she said, looking into his eyes as hers rimmed with tears. “I miss him too.”

“Mom” he began, but she cut him off.

“We can work something out, I swear. We’ll find a way to have less rules, for a while. But eventually, I need you to come back. To do the things your father and I prepared you for, Ben. Please.”

All he could do was nod.

After conferring with her advisers -- read : having whiskey with Uncle Lando -- Leia decided that getting Ben away from the Naboo media and building up some credibility was their top priority. She started sending him to allies, under the auspices of building relationship with the future king. He took a lot of very formal photos, always next to flags, always wearing a suit. He was always on time. No one put that on the news. But he also gets to wear jeans, sometimes, and go out with just Chewy to a local restaurant, or sit quietly at the hotel bar, or wander at a museum under a baseball cap. So far, the media didn’t seem interested in him when he is just being a normal person. Being just Ben. When a reporter eventually busts him out in the real world, his innate sense of cynicism tells him that the little liberty he’s allowed will disappear ( _thank you, free and independent press_ ), but until then, he’s holding on to the month, or year, or days until he’s on time _all_ the time.

Which brings him to Rome. To this town car, to this trip, to being on time. Having his picture taken. Shaking hands with the Pope wearing a _very_ formal suit. Making a “very serious” face for staff at the Naboo embassy. And maybe, going to a place with good fresh pasta, or gelato, and being a normal person -- without the press tagging along.

However, they did manage to follow him to Rome via the _Naboo National_ , who ran a photo this morning of him standing next to an Olympic snowboarder at the airport with the headline “PRINCE BEN’S NEW GIRLFRIEND!”

“AM I NOT ALLOWED TO STAND NEXT TO PEOPLE?” he raged at Chewy on the plane. “Chewy, are they going to think WE are a couple? I stand next to you ALL THE TIME. WHAT WILL MOM SAY.”

That earned him a rolling chuckle from his security guard. Still, Ben knew it was fruitless. He satisfied himself by ripping the paper into shreds. There was no room to pace, and he had to do _something._ It made him feel a little better.

Lately every time he looked sideways, the _National_ was trying to cook up a romance or a scandal for him. It’s like someone was out to get him, or else the papers in Naboo _really_ needed copy.

 _To small,_ he muses glumly. _Way too freaking small._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, you made it to the bottom! Cool. See you soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm just a little bit too excited that people are reading this thing that I've been working on for two months to stick to weekly uploads. Also, I'm new at descriptions and tags, so please note this work is inspired by Roman Holiday, but not a strictly faithful adaptation - I'm pretty sure the original didn't have smut. Saint Audrey forgive me. 
> 
> WARNING: Someone is drugged without knowledge or consent in this chapter. Nothing bad comes of it, but it seems like the sort of thing you should warn people about.

**Chapter 2**

 

Ben set his wine glass down gently on the bar. When Chewy had quietly noted this discrete _trattoria_ down the street from the Naboo Embassy, Ben had jumped at the chance to be normal for a glass of red and maybe some pastry after his first official dinner in Rome. The sfogliatella had been delicious tonight. And the wine. Everything else had sucked.

That wasn’t true. The dinner had been … fine. The food was great, the people were … dignitaries. Ben knew the rules, knew the manners and the small talk and the ways to look interested as the Mayor waned on about his collection of ancient wax seals. He knew he was perfectly capable of every single social nicety required of a future king. It had been drilled into him for almost thirty years. Internally, he made a bargain with himself. He could suffer through it, absent any surprises or deviations from protocol, in exchange for a quiet, normal seat at an anonymous wine bar.

And then the surprise had arrived, in the form of Armitage Hux, who decided, in his words, to “tag along.” “Because,” he added flippantly, “you know someday this could all be my responsibility.”

Ben closes his eyes and picture the headlines if he did exactly what he wanted to that toadstool.

_“CROWN PRINCE BREAKS SECOND-IN-LINE’S SNIVELING NOSE”_

_“PRINCE BEN THROTTLES PENCIL NECK HUX TO RAUCOUS APPLAUSE”_

_“BEN IS AT IT AGAIN: LOCKS ARMITAGE IN DUMPSTER AND PUSHES IT DOWN HILL”_

The thought gives him immense satisfaction. The following thought, of his mother’s face as he leaves the Naboo Senate in disgrace, less so. He opens his eyes and --

Ben’s eyes don’t open. He scrunches his brow. This hasn’t been difficult before, or … ever. Willing his eyelids to part is herculean in effort, and they open slowly, to reveal a world gone blurry.

He looks down at his single glass of wine, as if it betrayed him. Did someone do something to his drink? Suddenly, down the bar, he hears jostling. Chewy has intercepted someone with a wide-angle lens poking out of their bag.

 _Shit._ Ben curses internally, slumping onto the ancient counter. _Shit shit shit._

Of course, on this trip from hell via the Eternal City with guest star Armitage goddamn Hux, someone from the press would catch him looking blitzed. _You cannot pass out right now,_ Ben admonishes himself sternly, wobbling slightly. He forces his brain to think of Chewy’s protocol for this situation. The situation he laughed at ever needing a protocol for. Dammit.

_Get out the back. Hide next to something brightly colored. Wait for Chewy._

He clings to the words as he spins sloppily towards the back of the bar, eyes locking on a little glowy sign with the word “ _uscita”_ in a wavy font he has never seen before.

Oh.

Right.

Drugged.

He uses the bar stools to prop himself up as he makes for the door. He turns left towards the street, and in the alley finds a string of Vespas parked sandwich-style, barely far enough apart for a rider to fit. One is bright orange.

_________________________

Rey folds Crown Prince Benjamin of Naboo’s Official Itinerary in half, turning into the alley. She was late picking it up from the Embassy’s press officer because an advertiser had pulled a sponsored post and Rey had to cobble together some crap about “the top ten most romantic bridges in Rome” in a flash at the end of the day. She hadn’t even had time to research whoever she was stalking on behalf of _La Resistanza_ tomorrow. _Bridges are not romantic,_ Rey thinks, _and this stupid guy is going to waste my day on boring tourist crap._

She tucks the itinerary into her leather jacket’s pocket, pulling BB’s keys from her right. She easily spots BB in the lineup of black scooters; even if the bright orange was hard to miss, the license plate’s jaunty “BB-8” always jumps out a her. The little Vespa had been Poe’s before he and Finn had moved in together blocks from the office. Rey had loved zipping around town on it so much, he’d given it to her for commuting.

Her fingers brush the plate in greeting before she pulls up short. There is a pile of something dark between her bike and the next one, blocking her lock. It shifts, and a man’s face peers up at her.

“Can you help me?” he asks simply.

Rey freezes. Rome 101 for Natives says never help someone you don’t know. There are so many scams, so many people looking to take advantage -- she learned early and hard that everyone was looking for a mark. But the street light on his face makes him look so lost, so confused and innocent, and when he pushes his thick black hair away from his face to reveal giant, adorable ears, she decides to make an exception. She’s definitely strong enough to take care of herself if she needs to.

She offers a hand, and helps the man stand.

He unfolds slowly, raising himself to tower above her. He is _tall_ and his shoulders are so _broad_ and he is wearing a button up black shirt over jeans that fits his toned arms and legs _so well_ and her stomach simultaneous jerks up in interest and down in dismay.

She’s definitely not strong enough to take care of herself if she needs to.

And she might need to _right now_.

The man lists towards her, then crumples, leaning heavily on her for support. Her knees bow precariously.

“Oh no you don’t, Drunky Mc Drunkface” she grunts, shoving him away forcefully. He goes down, hard, on a sporty EO Wheels. She uses the opportunity to unlock BB. Quickly. 

“I’m not drunk” he replies from her side, mumbling. “I’m being very happy.” She knows the line from somewhere, but can’t place it before she hears him whisper “I think someone drugged me.”

“Oh shit!” She sees it now. He’s disoriented, and he’s probably going to pass out right where whoever did this can find him easily. “Okay, okay, be calm,” she reassures him, trying to hide her own panic.

Rey sidles up to him, leans over the bike, and wraps an arm around his waist -- _surprisingly tapered under those big shoulders STOP IT REY STOP IT._ Even her internal “serious voice” knows this is a terrible idea.

Next she loops his wrist over her shoulder -- _those hands are so NO I’M SERIOUS REY NIIMA._ She shakes her head once, hard, because this guy is not and will never be into her, regardless of his mental state.

“Can you walk for me?” she asks in a low voice. He nods, then slowly peels himself off the EO, leaning on her with what feels like a lot of weight. Muscley weight.

“I’m going to get you a cab,” she explains, as they shuffle towards the street. “They can take you back to your hotel, you just stay there and call a doctor if you need, okay?” Her free arm comes up in an expert salute, and the next white taxi that drives by halts with a squeal. She grips her new friend’s wrist more firmly around her shoulders and leans down to the passenger side window.

“Where are you staying?” she asks the man wrapped around her.

“The Colosseum,” he responds seriously.

She turns her head to the cabbie. “The Colosseum,” she repeats.

The cabbie groans and drives away.

Rey straightens, and looks up at her very handsome, very incoherent new responsibility. “I guess you are coming to my place.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, BB-8 is an orange Vespa. You know it makes sense. 
> 
> Also, first hardcore dialogue drop from Roman Holiday -- did you catch it?!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey figures it out.

**Chapter 3**

 

 _Stairs,_ Ben ruminates. _Why are stairs so difficult?_

He glances down at the he petite brunette manhandling him up an Escherian number of flights, and decides not to share this metaphysical quandary with her. She looks … winded. And beautiful.

She's not the classic, perfectly coiffed type of girl who usually parades past him. She is wearing a beat up leather jacket with some kind of quilting on the elbows, black skinny jeans, and some kind of little black boot thing, with hair struggling to escape a stacked series of buns. Under all that, he guesses her body could fit right in in the Naboo Ballet; thin, lithe, and surprisingly strong. Even with his weight crushing her, she moves like there’s a hidden force pushing her forward, making every nuance of her face, her body, effortless. His brain eeks one thought past the fog of drugs. _She is different. She is light_

Inexplicably, the thought brings his limited motion to a halt. Luckily his guide has stopped too, fishing out some keys to open a comically small door. Ben peers inside.

“Is this the elevator?” he asks primly.

She bristles, and shoots back “This is my _ROOM.”_  

 

\-------------------------

 

 _This is the real reason no one helps strangers in Rome,_ Rey thinks, _fucking stairs._

She looked at her guest, still nameless. After using every single ounce of stealth she possessed to sneak him past Unkar Plutt on the ground level ( _soundly snoring, the swine_ ) and Maz on the third ( _will most certainly be fielding inquiries about this tomorrow_ ), she thinks she's earned the right to name him. Maybe nickname him.

Roy? Oliver? Big Ass Stranger? Yeah, BAS would do.

Unaware of his new moniker, BAS flops down on her twin bed on his back, arms immediately coming up to curl behind his head, illuminated by the hall light. Rey has made so many questionable decision tonight, losing her bed to BAS seems fairly unaggregious. She moves into her dark studio, away from the bed now filled with BAS to the left, towards the two hanging cabinets on the right wall. Flipping on a light under the counter, she takes two glasses from the cupboard and fills it at the bar sink below.

She turns and places one on her nightstand next to BAS’s sprawled form. With the kitchen light on, she can see a hint of hairy abs and a delicious taste of hips where his shirt has ridden up from his pants.

Correction. Big Ass Sexy Stranger.

She sighs, rolling her eyes as she turns away. Finn is going to freak out with worry. Poe is going to freak out… for other reasons. He has been after her to get laid for so long, the jokes have become tinged with… pity? How is she going to keep them from finding out that she has the world's hottest giant tucked away in her shoebox apartment? Not like she’d take advantage of anyone in this state, but this is going to be hella hard to explain at the office tomorrow.

She winces, imagining Rose’s squeal of delight.

It only takes three steps to pass the kitchen, and walk into the bathroom. Rey scrubs at her face, and leaves with the light still on. It seems like a bad idea to get undressed. She settles into her only other piece of furniture, a squashy wingback that took her almost as long to wrestle up the stairs as BASS. She plugs in her phone, and warily closes her eyes with it clutched to her chest.

It rings five minutes later.

Well, to Rey, it feels like five minutes. Upon closer inspection, Rey realizes that she fell asleep during her vigil over the prone form of BASS, and has been sleeping in the wing back for several hours. When a photo of Poe in a ridiculous beret and Ray Bans pops up on caller ID, she yanks the charger from the phone port and bolts into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. It’s early. Has he had his requisite two espressos yet?

“Yeah?” she answers quietly into the phone.

“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” Poe grunts. _So, no to the espressos._ “I called to tell you that Crown Prince Ben of Naboo has food poisoning.”

The meaning of that sentence is so far outside of her realm of comprehension that it might as well be piloting a spacecraft. “Who?”

“Your _assignment_ , Rey! Following the royal bigwig? Telling people where on his itinerary he should have stopped to see the _real_ city? Striking a blow at stuffy tourist agendas to be heard round the globe?”

“Oh right.” she rubs her forehead. “ That’s good actually, because something came up last night and -”

“ _WHO CAME UP LAST NIGHT?”_ Poe interrupts, and immediately his voice sounds further away from the phone. “FINN! REY HOOKED UP WITH SOMEONE LAST NIGHT!” It returns to the microphone, but the volume stayed the same. “WHO IS IT?”

“It’s not like that, we didn’t hook up” she explained,”on the way home I ran into this guy who had clearly been drugged. He couldn’t remember where he was staying, so I let him sleep it off here. He’s harmless, and you know I wouldn’t take advantage.”

“But, is he hot?” The journalist in Poe always got right to the crucial questions.

“Objectively, yes, but --”

“He _IS_ hot!” Rey can hear Finn crowing in the background.

 _“_ Am I on speakerphone?” she asks with a groan.

“Listen, this is perfect,” Poe ignores her. “You just stay there and seduce the objectively hot stranger you brought home this morning. Prince Ben can stay wrapped around a toilet in the Naboo Embassy for a week if you’re hooking up with someone. In fact…”

Rey tunes him out as gear start to turn in her brain. _The Naboo Embassy? That’s near where I found BASS last night. And now the bigwig isn’t showing his face this morning?_ No. No. The odds of it were astronomical. It had to be a coincidence.

“Poe,” Rey butts back into what was definitely not a work-appropriate stream of thought from her editor, “what does the bigwig look like? The Prince guy?”

“Ooooh, he’s broody.” That was Rose’s voice. Yes to the speakerphone then. “He is tall with these big shoulders and lots of black hair. He keeps it long because his ears are like, huge, but so are his lips and they are like --”

“Wait. Wait wait wait. I’m sending you something.” Rey cracks the bathroom door open, sticking her arm out and hastily pointing her phone camera in the direction of BASS. Snapping quickly, she pulls her arm back in, quietly re-locks the door, and inspects the photo.

He looks… peaceful. The sharp planes of his cheekbones seem less severe when the rest of his face is smoothed with sleep. There is probably an endorsement deal with a shampoo company for the hair -- how does it look so good this early? BASS has thick, sculpted eyebrows, a wide, distinct nose, and …. Holy shit. What was Rose saying about lips? She gulps, texting the snapshot to Poe with a tiny grenade of a message. _Is this him?_

Rey hears the phone ding in receipt of the photo at the other end. She covers the speaker, tensing for an explosion of yelling. Or laughter. This theory has got to be crazy. But what’s really deafening is the ensuing silence. It’s Finn who finally breaks it.

“Peanut,” he asks gently, “is the heir to the throne of a minor central European parliamentary monarchy in your bed right now?”

“I think so.” She barely whispers it.

The pause that follows this time isn’t just pregnant. It’s carrying triplets.

“THIS IS GREAT!” Rey shouldn’t have uncovered the speaker, because now Poe is using his excited voice. “Rey, this is the best feature this paper will have ever scored! Outlets from America will even pick this up!” He starts using his terrible Walter Kronkite impression. “ _My Day with the Prince: Up Close and Personal by Rey Niima._ ”

“What? You still want me to write about him after I brought him home? Isn’t that a violation of … of something? Something ethical?” Rey’s mind cannot keep up with Poe on this one. “BASS is going to bolt as soon as he figures out what happened, Poe. He will never let me get close enough to profile him.”

“Who is Bass?” Rose asks at the same time as Poe interjects “ _Charm him.”_ They both pause, and Rey can practically hear the furious glares being exchanged in the newsroom. Poe wins, apparently.

“Rey, just try. I’m not saying you should sleep with him-”

“ _You totally should!_ ” Oh, great. That’s Jessika. Confirmation that literally the entire staff is hearing this.

“But,” Poe continues, “This guy is scheduled to an inch of his life. Maybe he wants a day off. A holiday. Offer to take him around to a few places, eat some food, do whatever. See if you can get him to talk about his life. I mean, he wouldn’t object to a story if he’s just a normal guy, right? People would get to see the real him. That’s like, what all famous people want. It’s harmless.”

Rey exhales. “Harmless except for the part where I take advantage of someone drugging him to expose his personal life to the world! He’ll wake up, I’ll let him go home, it will be a weird cocktail party story.”

“Don’t let him leave!” Poe is practically crawling into the phone. “If you can get in his head, this will make us! The awards could-” He stops suddenly and Rey hears a scuffle.

“Just try,” Finn’s voice interjects reassuringly. Rey would bet her tiny savings account that he either stole Poe’s phone with a serious move of his bossy eyebrows, or Rose and Jessika are physically restraining the editor in some way. “I’ll come out and tail you in case things go south, then I can bail you out. It could be fun, Peanut. You could use a holiday too.”

Rey can tell that there’s something hiding between the syllables of Finn’s words. He’s been her best friend since she was eleven, and he has this way of just knowing when… well, just knowing. She’ll have to try and crack the meaning of his friend code later. For now, she’ll trust him.

“Okay.” She turns to face the bathroom door. “I’ll do it.”

Finn’s reply is solemn. “May the force be with you.”

Hanging up, she reaches for the knob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone reading, and THANK YOU for making it to the bottom! It's nice down here. Join me anytime.
> 
> Did you spy with your little eye 1) more Roman Holiday dialogue; 2) an Arrow reference (my next crossover fic in progress is Olicity + a legal romcom!) and 3) a classic Star Wars Tagline? 
> 
> Another chapter on Monday :) :) :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 

Ben wakes up in a bed. That is about all he can process, beyond daylight and his internal alarm clock blaring at him that he is late for something.  _ Is this a twin? Who still has a twin?  _ Then his eyes fall on the microscopic kitchen set up eight feet away, and the proportions of the closet he’s in begin to make sense. He looks right.  _ Are those postcards?  _

The entire wall is covered in glossy four-by-sixes. He looks at the ones closest to him. Guam. Portugal. Thailand. Arizona.  _ Who lives here?  _

His immediate question, and several others, are answered as one of the two doors in the apartment opens, and a young woman steps out of a bathroom. His mind lights up in recognition of the brunette from last night. Flashes of the way her hair smelled as he leaned into her, and her livid curses as she hauled him around a stairwell flood back to him.  _ Get a grip,  _ Ben commands himself.  _ It’s been a while since you were around a beautiful woman, but --  _

_ Shit. Shit shit shit. _ The gravity of the situation hits him full force. He was drugged and now he is alone with a woman he doesn’t know.  _ What the fuck happened?  _ After six months of goodwill tours, after all the promises to his mother, after following all the goddamn rules, he had screwed up yet again. In the daylight, he can see that the source of his problems has a delicate dusting of freckles. Leia will never believe that this wasn’t his fault, once she sees this girl in the papers. She’s perfect. He’ll berate himself later for not having any memories of what happened with her. 

_ Time for damage control _ Ben tells himself. He dives right in. 

“Have I been here all night alone?” 

“Well, if you don’t count me, yes,” she replies with a cheeky smile. 

“So I spent the night here, with you?” His voice goes flat. This could not be worse. Full stop. Screw damage control. 

“I … “ She immediately senses the change in his tone, and her bravado is gone. She blushes so pink that she’s neon.  _ This girl has no poker face. _ “ I don’t know if I would use those words exactly, but, uh from a certain angle, you spent the night here with me.” 

Ben stops breathing entirely. “Did we…” He used his index finger to point slowly at himself, then her, then himself again. 

“NO!” Her blush deepens even further. She throws her arm out in the direction of a truly horrendous lounge chair. “I slept in the chair!” 

Sweet baby Jesus. Air returns to his lungs. “Thank God.” That earns him a furrowed eyebrow from his hostess. “If the press had gotten wind of this, I’d -”

“The press?” she interrupts with concern. “Am I harboring a criminal or something?” She’s still pointing at the chair. 

Ben pauses, looking her dead in the eye. Her expression is confused, but genuine. Does she not recognize him? His life has forced him to develop a shrewdly calibrated barometer for guile, and his reading of her clocks in at exactly zero. He looks carefully over her shoulder at the overstuffed green monster behind her, then the alarm clock by his elbow. Considering his options, he decides to be Charming Ben, and get the hell out of there. If she doesn’t know who he is, it’s better if it stays that way.

“No no no,” he bluffs, faking a chuckle. “You know, just…. memes. And… Reddit. The internet.” He gestures expansively, then tries out the most charming smile he can muster this early. “Can I have some toast?” 

“Sure….” she gives him a dubious side eye, then turns away. “I’m Rey, by the way.” 

“I’m Ben- “ he stops himself. “Just Ben.” 

“Well, just Ben, the bathroom is over there. Let me know if you want to use a phone or something.” 

He is halfway to the bathroom ( _ not a great feat _ , he muses) when his hand hits the bottom of his pocket. No phone. He pivots back. 

“Sure. Can I text a friend I was with last night?” 

She unlocks an ancient iPhone, hands it over, then turns back to her single hot plate. He spends a second judging just how much trouble he’ll be in based on this message, and looks up warily at Rey before composing an intentionally quick text to Chewy.  _ I’m safe. Heading back now.  _

He waits, momentarily. Chewy is nothing if not glued to his mobile. The bodyguard’s response bounces back and absolutely floors him.  _ I’ve got you covered. Be back by 7 AM tomorrow. Be safe or I’ll rip your arms off. _

Ben stares at the little green bubble on the screen. At a minor miracle. That is twenty-four hours from now. He has twenty four hours to do … what a normal person does with twenty-four hours.  _ What is that, exactly? _ Dazed, he deletes the conversation, sets the phone down, and turns away.

____ 

 

After a long pause, Rey hears her bathroom door close gently. She exhales the ten thousand breaths she has been holding in one prolonged burst. 

_ Just Ben, huh.  _ She thinks she convinced him she doesn’t recognize him. And after his freak-out about the press, she certainly can’t tell him who she is. This is going to be … complicated.  _ At least I don’t have to call him BASS anymore.  _

As a rule, Rey hates lying. Hates it. But of the million emotions that raced through Ben’s eyes as he processed this morning, every single one made him look lost. Her moral compass is spinning frantically. She’s a journalist. She prizes truth and honesty above all else. But every time she imagines that needle frantically circling, it stops, pointing to Ben. Even before she knew that there was a crown somewhere made specifically to fit his head, she was drawn to him like a magnet to north.

She shakes her head.  _ I won’t be lying about very much _ .  _ Just one, little lie. _ The thought is reassuring. Don’t tell him you’re a reporter, but otherwise, be yourself. There is a tiny, tiny kernel of her insisting that she should tell any lie necessary just to spend five more minutes with Ben. An even tiner one hopes that he might like her. 

_ If anything _ , she rationalizes,  _ I can help him get home. I can help him from getting lost.  _

She pulls his toast out of the pan, turning off the burner. She hears the water in the bathroom sink running, and turns back to the door as it cracks open. 

“Hey!” she says brightly, instantly picking up his nervousness. “Here’s your toast, I’ll grab a plate and…” 

“Thanks,” he interrupts, “but can I take it to go? I really appreciate your help, but I have to get back.” 

Rey stops. She had not been prepared for an abrupt departure. What did Poe say?  _ Charm him.  _ She turns on her megawatt smile and hands him the toast, wrapped in a paper towel. “If you want more for breakfast, I…” 

The door was already opening. “No thanks. Appreciate your help again. Goodbye.” 

The door closes behind him as he ducks out of her apartment.  _ Shit.  _

She waits, just long enough for him to get down the stairs. She has to go after him, for a lot of reasons she can clearly identify, and some she can’t. It will weird him out if it looks like she’s chasing him. She counts to forty, grabs her bag, and bolts down after him.

Maz stands at the main door of the  _ caseggiato _ , slowly sipping coffee. She takes one look at Rey practically falling down the last three stairs, and raises a non-existent eyebrow. She points in the directions of the Spanish Steps.

“He went that way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, first off, thank you CrimsonAce for leaving a nice comment on every chapter so far, because that is an above and beyond level of kindness that I really appreciate. 
> 
> I gotta say, I appreciate you all for dialing back your common sense reality-o-meters for the sake of the plot these last three chapters. Moving ahead, we get into some feels territory, which was a whole lot of fun to do. Making Ben Solo have feels is like the most fun thing ever. 
> 
> Have a Happy Halloween, and I'll be back with an update on Friday!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Head down, Ben just walks. The toast is long gone, and all that’s left is the weird morning taste in his mouth and the cobblestones flowing under his feet. His hands sink into his empty pockets, and he swears silently to himself in Mandarin. They are really, really empty. He has no money, no phone, and no freaking idea where he is. He silently hopes that all those times his mom mentioned implanting a geo-tracker in him were not a joke. This is going to be a very long twenty-four hours of freedom.

Suddenly, the bumpy avenue stops. He looks up, and sees a huge set of stairs sandwiched between two buildings. Surprised, he looks around. He’s been surrounded by beautiful, historic palazzos this whole time, and he didn’t even notice. He climbs halfway up the stairs and sits quietly.

 _Come on man_ , he chides himself. _This may be your last day of freedom ever. RSVP ‘no’ to your pity party, and enjoy it._

Ben takes a deep breath in, and smells something baking. He watches the buildings around him change color as the sun moves, in tiny, tiny increments. The pockmarks in the plaster make abstract patterns of dots. _How long have they been here?_ he wonders. He looks around. There’s no one to ask.

A profound sense of loneliness washes over him. Being Crown Prince Ben of Naboo is a lonely thing in itself, but having this tiny window of freedom and no one to share it with makes him feel more isolated than every state dinner he has ever attended. _Why did I just flee in panic from the only person I know in this city?_

His eyes close, heavy again as if the drugs are back. He drops his head into his hands. _She didn’t know me, and she was kind to me._

_And she was beautiful._

A clear voice punctures his melancholy. “Do you know the fountain down there has a boat in it because in the 16th century, Rome flooded and a fishing boat washed up on this exact spot?”

His head pops up in surprise. Rey is standing a few steps below him, her face open and genuine. Part of him wants to hug her. Part of him wants to cry. All of him keeps his damn fool ass on his step.

He clears his throat. “I don’t believe it.”

She grins. “How about this one: about ten years ago, a guy tried to drive his Toyota Celica up these on a dare and got arrested.You can still see the scratches, down there.” She points.

Ben huffs out a laugh. “That, I believe.”

____

When he laughs, her heart lifts. The intense pang of worry filling her as she had jogged the streets looking for him had twisted her chest. She blamed the jogging, mostly. Finding him, head drooping like a forlorn puppy, had been a relief and a whole other kind of angst.

“So,” she begins lightly, sitting next to him on the stairs “have you been to the Spanish Steps before?”

“The what?” His expression is quizzical.

She looks down, pointedly. “The steps. That were are sitting on. In the _Piazza d’espagna_. They’re…” she sees his brow furrow, and finishes gently, “they’re beautiful at sunrise.”

Neither of them speaks for a few minutes. She sat close enough to him on the step that she can feel the warmth from him lightly, like it’s reaching out and brushing her arm and shoulder in slow tendrils. Rey holds her breath, and savors just being next to someone.

“Sorry,” he breaks the moment. “I have been to Rome before, but haven’t really had a chance to … explore. I might be a little” he considers, Adam's apple bobbing, “lost.”

 _A little lost._ Rey gets pinpricks of an emotion she can’t -- won’t identify. She calculates quickly. If he wants to stay anonymous, helping him out with a backstory is probably the easiest way to go. “Oh, are you in the military? On leave?”

“Uh …. Yeah.” he perks up slightly. “I don’t get a lot of … time off from my … job.” He is staring at the fountain, and Rey can practically see the word _computing_ scrolling behind his eyes. “I only have a day here in Rome.”

“And,” she plys playfully, “what are you going to do with your day off?”

Ben’s head turns slowly and he looks her right in the eye. _Don’t. Bat. Your. Eyelashes._ His reply is grave. “I have no idea.”

“Well” Rey presses on, reminding herself that he is _not_ a prince today, “what would you normally do with a day of free time?”

“I would,” he considers carefully, a bit of wonder threading through his response, “I could do some of the things I’ve always wanted to.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, you can’t imagine.” He’s warming to the topic. His eyes return to the fountain, but he’s smiling. “I’d -- I’d just do whatever I liked. All day long.”

“Well, would you like to hang out with me? All day long?” Rey holds her breath. The last time she asked a guy out she was thirteen.

 _This is not a date._ The voice of reason in her head is a real buzzkill, but she is in such a dry spell that spending a day lying to a crown prince about his, and her, identity is the closest to romance that she has gotten in a long time. _Stop it_. She refocuses -- he hasn’t answered yet.

“You don’t have,” Ben starts hesitantly, peeking at her from under dark lashes. Rey holds her breath, waiting for him to say _a boyfriend._

“.... work?” he finishes.

 _Crap._ This is the point she knew it would come to. The little bit of lying. “No,” Rey chirps brightly. “I’m a tour guide. And I’ve got nothing scheduled today.”

“A tour guide?” He waits for her to elaborate.

She decides to keep things as close to the truth as she can -- easier to remember. And less horrible feeling. “Yep, lived in Rome most of my life and ended up showing tourists around so much I thought I should get paid for it. My specialty is taking people off the beaten path. You know, getting a taste of the real Rome.”

He nods. Apparently her half-truth passes muster. “Would you know of a somewhere off the beaten path where we could get breakfast?”

She grins. “I know just the place.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy more adoring homages to the original Roman Holiday in this dialog -- I just love it so much guys, I can't. 
> 
> One of the things I've really enjoyed about planning and writing the whole fic before publishing is being able to build in some symmetry, some things that will come back around in the second half of EWYW. You've already hit some of it in Chapters 1 through 5 (that's right, it has started already and you didn't even know it!), and it's going to sneak back up on you in the next 18 chapters. Be vigilant, friends.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Rey stands, and in a fit of brashness grabs Ben’s hand. She turns, hauling him down the stairs in a beeline for _Gatalenta._

“Everyone thinks Rome is all heat and hustle and crowds,” she throws back over her shoulder at the giant she is towing, “but there are amazing little pockets that are so serene, and when you really sit there, you feel like the city is telling you secrets.”

They walk on, turning down a narrow street between two apartments. Ben has stopped allowing himself to be dragged, pulling up next to her. He hasn’t let go of her hand. “My friend Amilyn has this amazing bakery, and her coffee makes you want to thank the sun for rising. It’s sort of tucked away,” she pulls up short in front of a tiny shop window with a lilac awning, “but you’ll never forget it.”

She looks up at Ben, and finds his eyes on her. “I’ll never forget it” he repeats after her slowly. The corner of his mouth quirks in a smile. _Is he flirting?_

“Is it open?” he asks before she can think about it too much.

“Oh, it’s fine. We can go in.” Rey opens the shop door, and pulls Ben into the tiny, warm, yeast-and-floral scented enclave.

“ _Tresora_ ,” Amilyn tosses her lavender hair, standing from behind a mountain of pastries on the counter. “ _Buongiorno. Chi è il tuo amico?”_

“ _Buongiorno_ Amilyn,” Rey switches to English. "This is Ben." Since meeting Amilyn through Poe, they’ve had deep, philosophical discussions in Italian. They’ve also talked about shoes. A lot. The change in language will raise her antenna, tell her that something is up. That, and the fact that Rey is hauling a man in to her shop for the first time … ever.

“He’s on leave from the army, and I brought him for breakfast. I’m showing him around today.” Rey blurts out, rushed. She turns to Ben, who is taking in the two tiny cafe tables and looking distinctly uncomfortable. _Makes sense_ , she muses, _he takes up half the damn room._ “Ben, Amilyn bakes with edible flowers and infuses them into her drinks. Up for trying?”

 _“Piacere_ , Amilyn,” Ben begins, tentatively. “I would love to try anything. Where should we sit?”

Amilyn Holdo is no fool. Rey watches her size up Ben, flicking her eyes between him and Rey. “What exactly will you be doing today?” she asks primly.

“Ben doesn’t get a lot of … time off.” Rey responds, looking right at her friend. She’s sure that she’s giving the crazy eyes, sending all the weirdest vibes, but she doesn’t care. _Please let her understand._ “We’re going to do whatever he wants.”

Amilyn must see it. She softens. “I can’t imagine anything nicer than doing exactly what you want for a day.” She pauses. “How about the back? The flowers are blooming.”

“Perfect. Thanks. Be back in a second.” Ben’s hand is in hers again and yet again she’s a tugboat, towing him down the tiny hallway to the shop’s back exit in her wake. They burst through the door, into a tiny _terrazza_ overflowing with flowers potted vertically against the walls. She pushes him on to a banquette behind a patio table.  

She stutters at him one more time, flushed. “I’ll be right back. Just … just… _stay._ ”

Rey closes the wooden door behind her with an exhale lasting approximately forever. Did she just tell the Crown Prince of Naboo to “stay”? What the hell was she thinking -- that was _not_ keeping it together by any measure of investigative reporting. _I’m on the cusp of the biggest story of my career, and I’m lying to my subject about it. I’m messing with international royalty. International royalty who is warm and smells good and lets me hold his hand. Porca vacca._

She steadies herself, closing her eyes and leaning her back against the door. She needs the serious voice.

 _I’m a journalist,_ the voice says seriously. _He will be gone tomorrow, no matter what. He is not interested in me. I am getting a story out of this, period._

Rey really ought to look into patenting her serious voice. She marches back to the front of the shop, turning the corner as Amilyn adds two espressos to a plate of pastries. Finn bursts through the door a half second later. Their hostess eyes them both, and sighs warily. “Explain.”

___

Ben drops his head back, letting the slowly-building sunlight seep through his eyelids. _When you really sit there_ , his mind echoes _, you feel like the city is telling you secrets._

He stills, evening his breathing. In this tiny courtyard, wrapped in the scent of flowers, there are so many secrets he wishes the mythic powers of Rome would reveal to him. _Why did Rey get nervous introducing him to her friend? Did she pick up when he responded in Italian? Did he blow his cover?_

_Why did her hand fit into his so well?_

The biggest one, though, is the secret he was keeping. He looks down at the cast iron of the table in front of him, running his fingers over the leafed lattice. Ben tries to think of the last time he’d been himself with anyone -- with a friend, or a woman, or _anyone._ He comes up blank. The first chance he has to connect with someone, someone that he likes, that he could trust, and he is lying. About everything.

The back door creaks, and Rey slides through, balancing a plate and two tiny coffee cups. “No no,” she says, when he starts to rise, “I’ve got it.”

She sets the plate between them and folds herself into the chair across from him. The pause is awkward, and loaded. “I’m sorry,” she starts, hesitantly.

“What?” Ben cocks his head. What, in the name of all things _italiano_ , is she apologizing for?

“Amilyn is like a sister to me … an older sister. And I don’t bring guys around here ... ever.” She pauses. “I was weird, and nervous, and I made you feel weird and nervous. I’m sorry.”

“Rey, it’s okay.” He smiles, reassuringly at her. “I’m having a nice time. Can I?” He gestures at the pastries.

“Oh! Of course! These ones are rose-infused.” She takes a tiny sip of from one of the cups she brought. “And drink the espresso slowly.”

Eating flowers should be off-putting, but the crunch of crystallized sugar wakes up some happy, comatose part of his brain, and the deep, semi-bitter viscousness of the espresso grounds the sweetness. He and Rey eat in companionable silence, folded together in their quiet botanical haven. After two pastries, the secrets he worried about seem less… heavy. He feels lighter. Relaxed. And less hungry.

So when Rey asks him why he joined the military, his answer comes out close to home. He blames the rosemary _panettone_.

“I grew up in a family with a lot of -- of expectations, I guess. My parents spent a lot of time preparing me for the,” he clears his throat, “the family business. They pushed me hard, and I really tried. I think I was good at it, but every time I accomplished something, there was always something else. It was never enough, I could have always done things a little better.”

His eyes drop back to the table. He can feel her watching him. “With the army -- well, I knew when I did things right. I knew exactly how good of a shot, or fast of a runner I had to be to be good enough. It was hard work, but people relied on you, knew what to expect from you. I guess that’s what I needed. To be… enough.”

Ben stops. He hasn’t told anyone that much about his life since he saw a therapist. Who promptly leaked his sixty minutes of feelings right to the papers and was no longer licensed in Naboo. He looks up at Rey hesitantly, and she’s looking at him like -- _like what?_

The thought explodes on impact. _She’s looking at me like a real person._

She doesn’t ask anything else. She doesn’t say anything else. Rey gently sets down her ridiculous little cup, unfolds from the ridiculous little chair, and stands, offering him her perfect, ridiculous little hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“So,” she looks down at him, the fullness of the day’s sun turning her hair gold, “Rome?”

Ben looks up at her, and for the briefest and most golden moment, he is dazzled. Dazzled by her plain t-shirt and her true smile and the fact that she is completely herself at the exact same time he completely himself. He takes her hand.

“By all means.” He stands. “Rome!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Presented without further comment because LIFE OKAY.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before you start reading I just have to tell you that I really, really love this chapter. I just love it.

**Chapter 7**

“... and sometimes the food was free, if the emperor was feeling generous, but other times they had vendors that would walk around and hock meat or bread like at American baseball games. Can you imagine?” Rey puts on her best gruff voice. “ _Quanti? Due?”_ She marches ahead of Ben to the rail surrounding the central ring of the Colosseum, and mimes throwing a hotdog overhand. “ _Otto lira!”_

Ben’s tiny smile at her antics makes her giddy, eager. Despite her limited historical knowledge, she wheels around, and tries to think of anything else in her very small library of trivia that could make him laugh. “And the rich people had these suites, with special rooms called _vomitoriums_ where they could go puke if they ate too much!”

Ben had been following her closely since they entered the arena, focused mostly on the tourists milling around him and snapping photographs. Rey can tell all the people make him nervous -- probably of being recognized, so she’s trying to distract him, and put him at ease. She hasn’t been to a touristy place like this in a long time, but she finds herself spouting off every random piece of knowledge she could scrape from the recesses of her brain to keep him comfortable -- and to keep her cover going. Trapdoors. Lions. _Vomitoriums._ She peers into a corridor that would have connected the outer walkways to the tiers of seating, trying to remember something she heard once about awnings that would cover the crowd.

“How many people could be seated here at once?” Ben asks, standing just over her shoulder.

_Aw crap_. “Less than you would think,” she hedges, brightening her tone. “Modern football arenas fit several times as many people as this did at its largest.”

“And who built it? How long did it last before it was destroyed?”

Rey wanders into the corridor, hoping for a conveniently placed informational plaque. No luck. At least it’s shady in here, cool. She sits on a pillar that time has toppled, and pretends to rummage in her bag. Would he buy that she didn’t hear him?

“You know, you are kind of a weird tour guide,” Ben muses, sitting next to her and taking the water bottle she offered. “You don’t cover names, or dates, just like, fun facts. And food. You talk a lot about food.”

Rey takes umbrage to Ben’s criticism of her fake career. “Hey! It’s my day off!” she gripes at him. He chuckles, then slumps backwards, and she can see his black button up sticking to him. He’s unbuttoned it a bit at the neck, and the top curves of his collarbones and pecs are a little less imaginary than they were an hour ago. They should stay in the shade for a bit. He’s … sweaty.  _Stop it, Rey._

“Plus,” she adds, leaning back against the cool stone wall, _not_ looking at his glistening neck, “people don’t remember names, or dates when they go home. They remember how places made them _feel_.”

She can sense his smirk, and it makes her a little angry. There is beauty in this city she wants him to know, to understand, and he’s being too stubborn to see it. She leans into her argument.

“We’re in a city where people have lived a billion lives we’ll never know about. Epic lives, small lives, sad ones and happy ones. How does it make you feel to know that every step you’ve walked today has been in the footprint of someone else, whose life you’ll never know? What does that feel like, to you?”

Ben has gone completely still. So quietly she almost doesn’t hear him, he says “It makes me wish my dad was here.”

______________________

He should not have said that.

Half the molecules in his body are screaming “ _YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE SAID THAT_.” The other half feel so heavy, like if someone could twist him, they could wring sadness out of him in torrents. The weight is palpable to him in that moment, heavier than he would have ever guessed. He hasn’t talked to anyone about this. He never wanted to talk to anyone about this. Why is it that this person, this girl next to him, can make him rip the bandage off the place that never really heals?

Rey puffs out her cheeks, and exhales in one long, slow gust. It’s official. He freaked her out.

Then she surprises him. “How long ago?” she asks.

“About a year and a half,” he respond numbly. She nods. She looks at him with her face scrunched, like she’s trying to keep something in.

“What … what do you remember most about him?”

Now it’s Ben’s turn to puff out the air refusing to exit his lungs. No one has ever asked him that. Surprise, again.

“I remember … “ he starts, squinting into the sun streaming in at one end of the corridor. “He had a great laugh. Like a real, real laugh. And when he was talking to you, he’d clap his hand on your shoulder, and it would feel like every ounce of his attention was focused on you. Just you.”

She gives him a small smile. It’s enough to keep the words coming, if he looks straight ahead at the shady, ancient stones across from him. “He and my mom fought a lot, but he loved her so … so much it was fierce. And he was just so sure about me. My mom was the pushy one, the one who would be disappointed or expect …. but he was just so steady, all the time, so certain that I could do it. That kind of pressure was almost worse.”

Ben sniffs, hard, to keep the tears from coming. “No one believes in me like that anymore.”

He falls silent, forcing his Adam’s apple down through the tightness of his throat. It hurts so much to actually say this, after so long. Having these words circulating in the universe feels like he’s stepped to a precipice. Rey reaches over, clasping his fingers lightly, and he hangs his head.

“Mine died when I was twelve. They were writers. Car accident.” she begins quietly. He turns to face her. Now she’s the one fixated on the wall. “Sometimes I try to remember the things about them that I never noticed as a kid. What perfume my mom used. How my dad shaved. When it happened, I think it hurt so much that my … brain, my memories, left the good parts out.”

When she turns back to him, it’s clear she is also standing on a ledge. Tears gather precariously at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill onto her freckles. She tucks her hair behind her ear, then wipes them away with her free hand and squeezes the other, holding his, tightly. “Don’t leave the good parts out, Ben.”

Their eyes connect and Ben understands she wasn’t talking about the footprints of ancient Romans. Not really.

Suddenly, an eight year old with chicken legs sprints past, wearing a plumed gladiator helmet and waiving a foam sword. “FOR CEEAAASSSAAARRR” he bellows.

And then, by a miracle of fate and luck, Ben is laughing. He is laughing so hard that he really is crying. Rey is laughing too, still holding his hand, bent in half with mirth. An overweight woman in a fanny pack follows the warrior. “PAXTON. PAXTON STOP!” Her pursuit redoubles whatever twisted humor they found in this situation, and his ribs hurt by the time sanity reclaims them.

“Oh my God,” he wheezes, wiping tears of happiness away from his face, “I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time.”

“Me either,” Rey’s grin could split her face. It’s brilliant, and a rogue tear on her cheek just doesn’t match. Without a second thought, he reaches and cups her face and wipes it away with his thumb. Her smile blinks out, and Ben realizes what he’s done. He snatches his hand away hastily.

Awkwardness welcomes itself to the silence that expands between them. After a beat, Rey unravels a new thread of conversation.

“Are you hungry for lunch? There’s a food truck near here that does pizza, and they put mortazza on it that is so salty and perfect. Have you tried mortazza?”

Before Ben can respond that indeed, he quite enjoys salty bologna, his hand is back in hers and they’re trekking towards the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEE WHY I LOVE IT? Ugh. Feels. Feels for all. 
> 
> I have to say a big thank you to a song that helped me out a lot in this chapter, called "The Good Parts" by Andy Grammer. This is my belt-it-out-in-the-car jam, and worth a listen: https://bit.ly/2CTD5Sd
> 
> Also, this food truck is a real thing, it is called Pizza e Mortazza and you should not google it if you are hungry.  
> HAPPY FRIDAY, SEE YOU MONDAY, THANKS IN ADVANCE FOR COMMENTS K BYEEEE


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

After splitting a pizza with a crown prince, Rey decides that she’s entitled to a solo trip to the bathroom to freshen up and possible squeal like a homecoming queen and/or have a psychotic episode. She turns a corner into a _negozia_ and runs right into Finn.

“You. Are. KILLING IT, Peanut!” he wraps her in a hug. “Seriously, you guys look like best buddies. Is he giving you good copy? Look, you two are like kids together.” He holds out the display of his camera.

She looks down at the tiny screen of his Nikon. She and Ben are sitting on a curb, trying to see who can stretch the longest mozzarella strings off the slice of their pizza. They look … normal. Happy.

“Would they really publish that?” she asks uneasily. Seeing Ben like that, so open and authentic makes an instinct rises up in her chest to protect it. To protect him.

“Oh yeah,” Finn is plowing full steam ahead. “Poe says this thing could go global. Viral. Huge. This will make you a household name, Rey.”

As Finn spells out what is both the best case, and somehow the worst case scenario to Rey, her heart sinks. She quietly excuses herself. “I said I was going to the bathroom. I should…”

“Right, right,” Finn turns to go, then pivots back, “still coming to the party tonight?”

Rey considers. “Could you make sure everyone would keep a lid on it if I bring ... “ She jerks her head towards the door.

“Absolutely,” Finn nods. He cocks his head. “You okay, Peanut?”

“Yeah. Just ... “ she pauses. What is she asking. “Don’t do anything with those photos until I ok them. Please. Not even Poe.”

“Sure.” He squints at her. Nods. “Sure.”

Rey splashes her face with water in the minuscule bathroom, and looks in the mirror. She has to look away. Suddenly, Rey is certain that if she ever wants to look in a mirror again, she can’t let this happen. _He told you about his dad. You cried._

Her decision is brutal in its finality. She has to derail this twisted, terrible story right now. Screw journalistic ethics. Fuck fame. Even if it means she lives off of spaghetti with no sauce for the rest of her life, she can not do this to Ben.

 _Why?_ Asks the serious voice.

 _Shut up, serious voice._ Rey levels her gaze at her own eyes. She cares about him. He may never, ever care about her -- _how could he?_ \-- but he’s the only person since her parents died that she has -

 _NO_ commands the serious voice. _Don’t say it._

She sends a quick text to Poe. _I can’t do this. The story is off._ She breathes deeply as she holds down the power button on her phone and watches the screen go black.

Rey looks herself in the mirror again. Her reflection’s eyes are clear. She thinks, hard for a minute about her options, now that she's chosen her path. She could tell be the truth, and then watch yet another person she cares about leave her. Or ... this could end if Ben gets caught. Then he won’t find out she’s been lying to him.

Rey nods at herself in the mirror. _Busted it is then._

She opens the door to find Ben frowning at the candy aisle.

Finn is nowhere to be seen.

“Hey!” his face brightens visibly as he waves at her with a Duplo. “Want a snack?” She shakes her head. He drops the candy bar, and smiles. “Where to next?”

“Well, I left my scooter last night when I picked you up. Want to come with me to get it? I’ll let you drive.”

His grin widens even more. “Is it a Vespa?”

________________________________________

They decide to walk to Rey’s scooter. She leads the way unobtrusively, strolling next to him and nodding in the direction of the turns they make. As they walk, he sizes her up, comparing her to his admittedly hazy memories of last night. Her black jeans and boots are the same, but she left her jacket at home this morning, and has been towing him around the city in a sleeveless blush t-shirt. He drinks in her in while she’s distracted, talking about how awful finding an apartment can be -- wavy brown hair falling around her shoulders; petite, explosive body with a pinched waist; thin, strong arms, and the bronze skin of her bare shoulders. He remembers comparing her to a ballerina, in his stupor, and the image still seems to fit. She’s so strong, so capable. Everything she does is a dance. The word _light_ flares in his brain again, but he pushes it away.

“Sound good?” Her hazel eyes turning up to his tell him that he’s missed a question, buried in the reverie of Rey.

“Sorry, what?” Ben hopes it wasn’t important.

She gives him a patient smile. God, she has so many smiles. How could he ever remember all of the kinds of smiles she has? “I was saying that while we walk, we should ask each other questions. Just, for fun.”

When he doesn’t respond immediately, she plows ahead. “I’ll go first.” He expects something about pets, or his favorite color. But instead, she asks “Do you believe people deserve second chances?”

Ben’s eyebrows raise. Even without knowing his real identity, he thinks he has told her enough about himself to know that he’s needed third, and fourth, and tenth chances. _What is this about?_ He clears his throat.

“My mom always used to say this quote, I can’t remember where it was from, but she’d say that restoring people was more important than restoring things would ever be. That you should never throw a person away.” He looks down at his moving feet, picturing Leia at the head of a table yelling at her interior ministers about funding. “I’ve had so many second chances, I’m starting to wonder if I’m running out. I think people should get as many as you can give them. There’s almost always a reason they deserve them.”

“Even if…” Rey seems to be lost in her own world. “Even if the thing they did was really terrible? You could trust them again?”

Ben thinks. She’s clearly thinking of someone, something else. “When I was deployed, one of the places I went had just been through a civil war. We were supposed to help rebuild, and resupply the faction that we supported.” He stops, and mentally scrubs the next part of any details that could blow his cover.

“The higher ups spent a lot of time trying to find ways to identify who was on what side in the infraction. On the ground, we said ‘screw it’ and gave aid to everyone.” She looks at him, her expression so confused that he wanted to gather her up in his arms. “Everyone had suffered. Both factions had kids to feed. Everyone needed a second chance, not just the side we were on.”

Rey looks away abruptly, as if the newspaper stand on the corner is the most fascinating thing in the city. When she looks back, her expression has cleared, but her voice still rings with gravity. “You really care about helping people, don’t you Ben?”

“Yes.” His answer is firm, and filled with meaning.

“I think,” she begins, and she looks right into his eyes. “That you would be good at it. You should go back and do it. You’re a good leader, you care about people, and about what’s right. You shouldn’t quit.”

Her words hit him like a one-two punch. One fist tags him with sincerity, appreciation. The other is an uppercut of confusion. “Quit?”

Her eyes spring wide. Ben imagines a bubble popping. _What is going on in her head?_

“Y-y-you know,” she stammers. “The family business. Or the army. Or whatever.”

The moment, the gravity, dissipates in an instant. Rey begins walking away from him brusquely, talking about street names and routes and something about crowds from afternoon mass, and Ben has to jog to catch up. Something is weird. _What is she talking about? What did he say?_ Ben feels like he has to salvage this, or his last, perfect day will be over.

“Hey wait, it’s my turn to ask a question.” He slows as he draws up to her, and she glances up at him with trepidation. “What is the best place you’ve traveled?”

Her eyes return to the street ahead. “I haven’t left Rome since my parents died,” she responds flatly.

“But,” he’s confused again, “the postcards? I saw them this morning on your wall?”

Rey’s gait slows back to normal. _Is this working?_ Ben hopes, beyond all hope, that he can salvage this connection. It's the only one he has, and the only one he wants. 

She takes a couple of deep breaths, and looks at him, her expression telegraphing authenticity. “Rome was the last place we were a family. I have so few memories of my mom and dad, I’m afraid if I leave,” she pauses, and finishes quietly “I won’t have any.”

She studies the pitted sidewalk intensely, before she continues. “When I meet people as a … tour guide, I ask them to send me postcards from home. It makes me feel less alone, in a job and a life where everyone leaves.”

Rey stops, and turns her eyes, now full of meaning, up to his. “When you leave, will you send me one?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed, and redeemed; never throw out anyone." - Audrey Hepburn 
> 
> Also in the actual Roman Holiday, this is where the Wishing Wall would happen chronologically, but it just didn't fit. Fair warning, from this point on, *several* things are going to happen that weren't in the original PG13 movie (makes suggestive eyebrows). 
> 
> See you Friday, thanks in advance for nice words!


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Ben halts at Rey’s abrupt question. _When he leaves_? His brain has been successfully avoiding the fact that he will only spend one day of his life with Rey, and in response to having its tenacious efforts at denial spoiled, sends a queasy feeling to his gut.

Avoiding Rey’s eyes, Ben looks around, and realizes that they are right in front of the _trattoria_ from last night. Right next to the Naboo embassy.

_Aw, shit._

It makes sense. She told him that they were going to pick up her bike where she left it last night. She left it where she found him. And she found him in an alley near all the people he was desperate to escape for 24 hours. They had to get out of here.

He follows her into the recess between buildings, where she already has her Vespa unlocked. He looks around surreptitiously as she pulls it free of the rack. Of course it was the orange one.

“Ben,” she turns to him - _was she talking really loudly?-_ “This is BB-8. I know you are really tall, Ben, but I think you can fit. Still want to drive, Ben?”

Rey has wheels the scooter out to the sidewalk, in full view of the embassy’s main entrance, and Ben peeks around the corner before following her to the curb. If she keeps using his name, someone is going to overhear and spare him a second glance. She pops the kickstand out and balances the bike at the side of the street, looking at him expectantly. Without a word, he takes a seat and plants his feet to either side, reaching for the handle bars. He feels Rey slide on behind him, pressing her chest to his back.

His body immediately responds, and nerves  already on high alert flash red with adrenaline.

Rey barely comes up to his shoulder, but she’s wrapped her arms under his and is pointing to some levers on the handlebars.

“... so once you rev the right one to get her going, and that’s the gas. The left is the throttle and the squeeze bar is the breaks. Let’s just… “ her breath and words are streaming over his neck, ruffling his hair before tickling their way into his ear. She leans into him, and reaches her arm between his legs slowly. Ben’s body heat ratchets up ten degrees in two seconds, and he’s shifting uncomfortably on the seat.

Rey turns a little silver key in the central crossbar of the scooter. Ben realizes he isn’t breathing. He sees someone he vaguely recognizes from protocol walk towards the embassy, and his panic hits defcon one. He grinds his right hand down, hard, and they take off like a shot.

Ben grits his teeth and focuses on keeping the front of the bike straight, hunkering down over the crossbars and hiding his face as they jet past the embassy sentries. The wind is whipping his hair everywhere, into his eyes, and all Ben can hear is the tinny acceleration of the Vespa and Rey’s shouting. Her arms tighten around him, almost painfully. He whips his head back to see if the guards noticed him, and almost immediately Rey’s howls go from incoherent to “LOOK OUT!”

The priest in front of them freezes like a deer. Ben jerks hard to the left.

_________

The plan was going so well.

She had distracted Ben all the way back to the front freaking door of the Naboo Embassy. She had backed him into a corner, and he’d taken off right in front of his own guards, squealing, on a bright orange scooter. Then, to top it all off, he’d crashed a block and a half away.

That actually hasn’t been part of the plan. Rey winces. She’d have to do something nice for BB8 as an apology letter.

Ben must have had some sort of emergency royal evasion training, she reasons. He’d hauled BB into an alley and tucked her behind him in this alcove so quickly, that some weird ninja self-preservation technique was the only explanation.

This was the end of Rey’s rational thoughts. There was clearly a limit on logic when you were pressed into a tight, tiny space, with a very hot, panting, sexy man sandwiching you to the wall.

Ben’s head is down, and he is breathing heavily into her neck. His hands are _everywhere_.

They started on her hips as he pushed her into the niche, and the tips of his longest fingers curled possessively towards her butt before they really started roaming. He moves them up her waist, weighing the narrowest part gently, thumbs at her belly button. They wander over every rib, slowly, gently, caging them in and absorbing every thunderous beat of her heart. Under his hands, she realizes she’s panting too.

“D _oes anything feel broken?_ ” he whispers.

She closes her eyes and let her head fall back to the stones behind her, concentrating on slowing the expansions and contractions under his hands. _So, so many things feel broken._  She shakes her head.

That seems to calm Ben down too. His breathing follows hers towards normal. His head does not move. But his hands do. Rey bites her bottom lip. It had been so, so long since someone just _touched_ her.

Ben groans lowly, and skips her breasts - _why? WHY? -_ in favor of tracing up the inside of her arms, and cupping her shoulders. Palms down, he skims her collar bones, and takes each side of her neck in his enormous, scorching hands. His head tips down, and they are breathing the same air.

Rey waits. She's frozen, immobilized by the gentle stroke of his fingertips over her pounding pulse. She breathes so lightly, feeling his inhales and exhales puff against her lips. He just holds her there, so disastrously, perfectly close. She can see his eyes, and they are staring at her mouth intently, like he is trying to read the secrets on her lips, so dark and full they might overflow.

For the tiniest moment, she imagines the needle of a compass again, spinning languidly, as hers has been for years. It stops violently in her mind. It points directly towards Ben, and so does she.

Surging forward on her toes, she closes the fraction of space between them.

It’s unfair, it really is. He is so tall, that any angle she took him at would have been perfect, but this one is the most perfect. His hands still on her neck, he slides one up to bracket her ear, fingers burrowing into her hair and cradling the back of her head. Lips still pressed to hers firmly, Ben tilts her head gently, and the new connection makes her gasp.

He takes advantage of the opening, and slides his tongue into her mouth. Rey rocks up on her toes, throwing her arms around him. Every millimeter between them is too much space. She is desperate to make contact everywhere, pressing her chest, hips, arms into him. Their kiss has become a conversation, and argument, a debate, sparring back and forth in the dirtiest, most gentle way Rey could ever imagine. The way her mouth slides over him is a revelation of heat and texture, gliding and glowing.

What do you do, when you realize you’re in the middle of the best kiss of your life? _You keep kissing, that’s what._

Ben reaches an arm down and scoops it under her ass, lifting her up and pressing her back into the wall as her legs wrap instinctively around his waist. He grinds into her, drawing back and layering lush, slow kisses with his full lips over her ear and neck, sucking and nipping. Their connection is burning the oxygen out of her lungs. She fists his thick, silky hair and pulls his mouth back to hers, reconnecting a circuit that crackles with electricity. She's sandwiched between a stone wall and the rock hard ridge of his pelvis, pinning her core to his body in a way that makes her ravenous. She claws at Ben's enormous shoulders, her tongue lapping and curling inside his mouth in a shameless display of want and need that she will never disclose to anyone. Ever.

And suddenly, it stops. Ben pulls his mouth away and drops it to her collarbone, and his hands follow, bracketing her still-suspended hips. He exhales shakily and hot air streams down the neck of her tee to tickle the tops of her breasts, misty with anticipation. “Rey.”

 _No. No no no._ This is the closest she has been in years. The closest to someone physically, and emotionally, and the closes to an orgasm that didn’t involve her vibrator. Rey violently vows she will burn in hell before she cuts the thread. Desire pounds through her ears, and the word “fuck” pounds through her brain. _Fuck the story. Fuck the plan. Fuck…_

Before her desperate, depraved mind finishes the thought, she’s nodding.

“I know somewhere we can go.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have absolutely zero idea how to operate a moped. Mea culpa. Addionally, I sincerely apologize to BB8 for crashing it. That is the extent of my apologies. I know what I did and I'm not sorry. 
> 
> SEE YOU MONDAY FRIENDS.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

 

Riding behind a woman who just gave you a raging erection on a tiny scooter is a bad idea. 

Ben mentally files this pieces of information away for his memoir. He and Rey have only been on the Vespa for a few minutes, but he is still as hard as iron, and his crash earlier meant he was banned from driving. Instead, he slid up behind her on the bike, spread his legs, and pressed his reaction to their kiss into her pert ass as they bounced down back alleys towards …  _ where were they going?  _

He is not a small man, in several ways. He is, however, an uncomfortable man. In several ways. 

It would help, Ben thinks, if he could stop thinking about touching her. He has to grasp her tiny waist for balance, and he can’t shake the feeling of her ribs heaving beneath his hands, her pulse hammering against his fingers. He has kissed a lot of women, but no one, no one had ever felt like that. She had been so responsive, her body gluing itself to his, moving in unison. They fit everywhere. 

A fresh wave of arousal causes him to press so hard against his zipper that he buries his head in her hair. It’s the only thing he could do to suppress a deep groan. She wiggles back against him.  _ Who was this girl?  _

She’s Rey. And she’s slowing down. 

Rey pilots the bike into what looked like a carpark. It is tucked close to the back of an ornate apartment building, which had apparently been divided into row houses based on the balconies scattered with potted plants and laundry lines. She pulls up near the access stairs, and kills the bike. 

Without turning around, she says quietly “This is my friends’ place. They are at work. Do you… “ Her hesitation makes him still. Ben can physically see as she gathers herself. “Do you want to go up?” 

Ben slides off the bike behind her, and takes step around to see her face. She looks up at him through dark lashes, and her insecurity hits him like a brick to the sternum.  _ How could she not know?  _

He gently lifts her chin. “Rey.” Her eyes meet his, with great effort, and he fights to edit his racing thoughts.  _ You are the kindest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. Touching you is a priviledge and a drug. I could fall love with you. _ “I will do anything,” her eyes flick away, and he waits until they look at his again before continuing. “ _ Anything  _ that you want to.” 

Her mischievous smile returns. “But I thought today was about doing whatever  _ you  _ wanted.” 

_________________

Rey unlocks Finn and Poe’s door using the key they keep in their mint plant. Ben follows her into their neat entry way, and surveys the room. It isn’t huge, but the house is stacked on top of itself in several floors, giving her friends plenty of space. The first floor is just the entryway, which led into an open living area with a desk and large windows facing the street, and a voluminous couch with a massive TV. The room doubles back on itself, and the entry is separated from a galley kitchen and little powder room by a wall with stairs leading up. 

She walks further into the apartment, but Ben hesitates by the door. “Whose place is this?” 

“My friend, Finn and Poe’s. I work with them. They just got engaged, but they’ve lived here about a year.”  _ Crap _ . She scans the living room for any work paraphernalia.  _ Seems safe.  _

Ben slowly approaches her from behind. He tips his head back down into her hair, where he’d buried himself on their ride over, like he was  _ breathing  _ her. God damn, she had taken so many wrong turns, feeling his hardness rubbing against her, his broad chest pressing her relentlessly. THe bike’s vibrations between her thighs were cruel and unusal, especially when her body couldn’t help but react to being that close to someone so enticing. By the end, she was so wet she thought she might slide off BB’s seat. 

Rey shivers as Ben trails his fingertips up the backs of her arms. “I’d like to … I’d like to touch you again,” he murmurs quietly, as if the words alone were a sensation. “To kiss you.” 

She turns to face him, addressing the buttons on his black shirt. “Pick me up.” Quietly, she adds “ _ Like before _ .” 

In a half a breath, Rey is airborne and her legs are around Ben’s waist. He paces slowly over to the couch, and then sits with Rey straddling his lap. His legs are so big, so firm, that hers are spread wide to maintain her balance, and she can feel her wetness hitting the air as the most sensitive parts of her are exposed. He takes a firm grip on her hips, then reconsiders, filling his enormous hands with her ass. 

Ben’s full lips find hers as he begins slowly dragging her up and down his length. Her fingers dive straight back into his hair, curling behind his ridiculous, adorable ears. She really should ask about his shampoo, when she’s not burying her tongue in his mouth. The sensations are overwhelming, her breasts pressed against his chest, her clit dragging against her jeans which are dragging over his cock which is dragging her mind into the gutter.  

She reaches for a button of his shirt, unsure if this delicate, incendiary thing they are doing includes second base. Rey gets one button, then a second, before Ben is pulling the black button up straight off over his head. He reaches for the hem of her tee, but she stills his hands. Rey reaches, out, and runs the flat of her hand across the broad, open plane of his chest. He is so  _ big _ . There is so much of him. Rey blinks, hard. Her eyes hurt from trying to drink their fill. She closes them, and drops her head into the perfect nook of his neck, sliding both hands down the light dusting of hair to his abs, and bringing her mouth to his collarbone. Ben drops his head back against the couch as she flaunts international hospitality protocol for an untold number of minutes. 

Eventually, he breaks and insistently tugs at Rey’s shirt. She strips, catching the bottom of her bra as the shirt rises up, and suddenly, she’s exposed to him. Ben’s eyes go so wide, and so soft at the same time, that something inside her chest twists. Following her lead, Ben skims his open palms up her sides, gently cupping her breasts from below as she grips his shoulders. His hands are so hot, and so enormous, that her small buds fill his curved hands and leave his fingers plenty of room to maneuver. They swirl over her nipples, gently at first, then more insistently, until he pulls her gently apart and places a line of tender, sweet kisses down the soft skin between her breasts. 

Now, she breaks. She presses her naked chest to his, reveling in the brush of his chest against her sensitive nipples as she attacks his mouth. Ben’s arms wrap her, and make it almost all the way around, clamping her against him as they fight to get closer, deeper. Their kisses, their tongues, their hands, are frantic in their need. 

Rey is lost in the sensations, her ears and nose and mouth roaring with him. The connection between them practically sings. She’s spinning, but the compass isn’t. It’s pointing fervently, painfully, magnetically in one direction, towards Ben and just Ben and more Ben and Ben everywhere. 

And Ben’s erection is pointing insistently towards her. 

Suddenly, Rey knows what she wants. And she wants it right damn now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THINGS ARE HAPPENING. 
> 
> See you on Friday, Happy Thanksgiving, Americans!


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Ben scrabbles to hold Rey as she starts to slide from his lap. No. This can’t be ending, there was too much, it was too good. A juvenile part of his brain adds “ _There were boobs!”_ But Han and Leia both drilled the importance of consent into his thick skull -- so he goes still, willing himself to calm.

Rey clasps his hands, and comes to rest on the floor between his splayed knees. Gently laying his palms up on the couch on either side of his lap, she slides her thumbs just under the button of his jeans, and smirks up at him. Her eyebrows ask a question that strikes him like lightning.

“Yes. Oh God yes. Please, yes, Rey, if you want to.”

 _How. Is. This. Happening._ His brain fights to understand how someone so bright, and pure, could want him. But she does, and she shows him by unsnapping him, then despite the best effort of his cock to break it, slowly works down his zipper. With a little lift of his hips, she works him free of his underwear, and takes his throbbing cock in her hand.

Ben holds his breath. He knows that he’s a lot to take in - literally - but  her small hand makes him look monstrous. He thinks that he’s … proportional? To the rest of him? But he’s never had complaints. And he’s never been self-conscious until this exact moment.

And he is self-conscious, because Rey has not stopped staring at his erection. She’s slowly working one hand up and down his thick shaft and once she’s sure she has his attention, she leans forward. Locking eyes with him, her pink tongue pokes out of her mouth and slowly, gently laps at the clear drop of precome oozing from his slit.

Ben rumbles. He cannot take his eyes off of her. Rey continues lapping at his swollen, red head, gently at first, then more insistently working her tongue into his slit, hand still gliding over him. Ben is breathing heavily. He can’t help it, and he huffs out a massive exhale as she takes the head of him into her mouth.

Rey works her mouth around his crown as her hand continues to slide up and down his shaft, adding a firm twist at the base. With each pass she goes a little deeper, until her lips and her hand meet in the middle of each wicked, exquisite stroke. It’s too much and not enough, rough and warm and wet colliding in the same magnificent cadence. He watches as she picks up her rhythm a little, breasts bouncing, bracing her other hand against his thigh. When she squeezes and he feels her nails rake the hair around his cock, hard, he realizes that he’s going to come -- soon.

“Rey, Rey, I can’t…” she doesn’t let up. Does she … _oh Christ._ She doubles down, hollowing her cheeks with more suction, more heat, and Ben clenches every muscle in his body. It’s too much, being surrounded by her, as she decimates him with the slide of her tongue. His heart, his brain, everything stops for one white hot second, and he’s coming. He’s coming into Rey’s gentle, perfect mouth, with her name ripping from his lips.

And she is loving it. She commands him like an Amazon queen, golden skin on full display and glowing with a power all her own. He watches as her lips tighten around him, and her throat works to swallow him as she keeps working his shaft. Her hand slows, and her mouth loosens as her tongue kicks into overdrive, swirling around his sensitive head.

It’s too much, but Ben can’t tell her to stop. He can’t tell her anything, as apparently he is a mute now. He reclines boneless, completely at her mercy, as he comes down from the high of the best orgasm he’s had -- ever? Yeah, probably ever. He watches Rey as she pops her mouth off with a saucy smack, and gives a few final licks to his softening cock before gently laying it back and tugging up his briefs. As she plants her hands on his still-spread thighs to stand, he leans forward and grabs her around the waist.

“My turn.”

__________________________

Before she can protest, Rey is on her back on the couch and Ben’s delicious, heavy weight is pressed on top of her. She looks up into his eyes, where his attention is waiting for her. She wanted to taste him, feel him on her tongue, but she had no idea how powerful that would make her feel - or how aroused. She owned this man, with only five fingers and her lips, and it had left her drenched.  

“Okay?” he asks.

She bites her lip, and nods.

“I can stop anytime. Anytime, Rey, just say the word.”

She arches up off the couch, stretching her arms above her head and pressing her alert nipples towards his mouth. This has the added benefit of grinding her now overly-sensitive sex against the thigh he planted between her legs.

“Don’t stop, Ben.”

That’s all it takes, and he falls on her like a man starved. His mouth, his hands are everywhere, cupping, teasing, tracing, tasting. She thrashes beneath him, fighting for more contact, until he flattens her with his weight and stills her with a deep, slow kiss. She knows she still tastes like him, but he doesn’t seem to care. He works her mouth open slowly, fingers tracing the lightest patterns up her body and circling her breasts.

After she settles, his fingers dip lower and lower as they elevator up and down her ribs, until the are skimming the waist of her jeans. He ventures one finger inside the band, and pulls away from their kiss slowly.

“I need you to be sure.” His voice is so, so deep, like dark chocolate with salt. “I need you to say it.”

Hers is just as husky when she locks eyes with him. “Touch me, Ben. Please.”

Supporting himself on an elbow over her, he rolls to the side so his back is against the couch, and his supporting arm has access to her peaked breasts. Rey imagines relaxing each vertebra into the cushion of the couch, settling her hands above her head so Ben has complete range of her body. He rolls the closest nipple between his fingers as his other hand expertly flips open the button of her pants, and then he’s sliding his hand slowly down, under her nondescript black underwear, and parting her gently. He slides one thick finger between her folds and lets it rest there, one long digit spanning her from its tip at her opening, to his middle knuckle curved over her clit.

He’s giving her a chance to change her mind, but the way his enormous fingers fit her hot, wet valley makes her want to gnash her teeth with joy. This can’t stop. She can’t stop. And she doesn’t want to.

“Rey?”

She consciously unclenches her jaw. “More.” Her voice sounds breathy and far away. “More, please.”

And he gives more. Ben slowly circles her opening with the tip of his finger, collecting the wetness that has pooled there and spreading slowly over her, making the heat of her slick and willing. He works his way up, dragging his finger and her dripping arousal up, up, up, slowly torturing her clit with gentle pressure, until he’s there. He’s right there.

The soft pad of his finger circle her clit, and Rey bucks up into his hand. He continues to orbit slowly, moving on and off of her most sensitive trigger point. She writhes with need, and looks up to find him studying her intensely.

“More?” he breathes. He wasn’t studying her, she realizes, he was devouring her, consuming her moans and whimpers like a man starved. “More .. hands? Or mouth?”

Oh, the thoughts of more hands and more mouths. The dirty things those lips could do to her make her squeeze her eyes shut. She shakes her head on the pillow. “I’m close already. Please don’t stop.”

Ben’s nimble finger picks up speed, and his teasing circles become more firm, more determined. The circles he makes become more concentric, spiraling inward until they are tighter, faster, and she clenches in response. God, she is _right there_ . _Please, sweet Jesus._

Ben drops his head to her breast and sucks, and it’s like the fuse of a firework takes off between his mouth and hand. Sparks zing, and her hands grip his hair like a grounding force. Her whole body bows as he makes three devastating passes over her in rapid succession, then pauses.

She balances on the edge as he uses his tongue to toy with her pebbling nipple, and in the same rhythm press hard right -

 _“Oh Ben, ohgodohBenohgod_ \-- “ she comes hard, the bright hot edge of a diamond cutting her in a shower of velvet. How can something be so hard and soft at the same time?  She is making sounds unfit for human ears, moans and sighs and Ben, perfect, amazing Ben, is still circling her slowly, milking every ounce of pleasure out of the chaos he has wrought.

She opens her eyes and the afternoon sun is blinding. _You stared into the eclipse._

Ben gently sweeps his hand up, and it rests on her hip, his thumb making aborted circles. His head has tucked itself under her chin, and her hands are still in his hair. _Did she pull it too hard?_ She sneaks a peak at his contented face. Smiling. _He liked it._

He’s lying half on her, skin on skin, and she can tell they are both drifting. Before her eyes close, she prays.

 _God_ , serious voice intones _, I know in a city of Catholics, I’m not first in line here. But please, please, help me forget. Help me forget that there’s a title in front of his name. Help me forget the unforgivable lie I am telling him. Please let him just be Ben, to me. If you can’t do that, please help me forget how he makes me feel. Just let me forget._

They hold each other as the sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just posted smut on the Internet and I'm having a bit of an existential crisis about it. Please send help via comments.
> 
> Also, I'm like 80% done with my next work, which is an Olicty/Two Weeks Notice crossover. If you are interested in being my beta reader, please hit me up!


	12. Chapter 12

Rey wakes up with a weigh on her chest. Literally. 

Ben’s head is still on her chest, and has migrated to directly over her slowly thrumming heart. He’s half covering her with his body, and she’s warm and heavy. The late afternoon around them feels like syrup, amber and slow.

She breathes in, and out. She wonders what her heart sounds like, to him. Does it sound scared? Because it is. 

Rey tries to lay very, very still. Maybe if she isn’t moving, this enormous, terrifying set of feelings she has will pass. The longing, the hope, the attachment, the fierce protectiveness. The certainty. She squeezes her eyes shut and holds her breath, then huffs it out. 

_ Nope. Still feeling the scary feelings.  _ The impossibility of what her beating heart is asking for, slowly, constantly, in a quiet but determined rhythm, creates a lump in her throat. She's had boyfriends before, hook-ups, but she's always made it a point never to get attached. Because they leave. They always leave, and it's a lot easier to watch them go if she doesn't care, if she knew from the start that things would end with a retreating back. Soon, it will be Ben's back, growing smaller and smaller as it leaves her life. On a reasonable, logical level, she knows she can't keep him for more than a day. On a primal, desperate level, she wants to. 

_ It’s easier this way, _ she tells herself.  _ One day. That’s it. He has to leave, but you don’t have to get hurt. _

Her exhale made Ben stir, and he looks up at her with lazy eyes. 

“Hi.” he smiles shyly, and tries to roll off of her, back flush with the couch. She rolls to her side, and snuggles her still-bare chest against his front. Now it’s her turn to tuck a head under his chin. 

“Do … “ Ben trails off, curving his mouth into her hair. “Do you regret that?” 

She opens her palms lightly over his chest, watching the pads of her fingers make indents on his wide, toned pecs. “Would you regret doing exactly what you wanted?” 

His arms come around her, and he starts tattooing patterns lightly on her back. They snuggle silently for longer than Rey has snuggled with anyone. Ever. It’s comforting, and familiar, like she’s been here before. 

Suddenly, she’s alert. “Crap. What time is it?” 

“No idea.” He grins and sits up. “Bathroom?” She points, and when he makes his way to the powder room, shirt in hand, she puts on her top and turns back on her phone. 

During her  _ fiacca  _ Poe has cycled through every stage of grief via text message -- with a long layover in the land of anger. And bargaining. She deletes all forty of them, and the voicemails. 

Finn only sent her two messages. The first is a shot of his camera display, the picture of she and Ben sharing pizza. The second is a message. 

“Are you still coming to the party?” 

________________

Ben tilts his head and studies the posters outside the barbershop. Surely no one without a FIFA contract actually got those haircuts. He elected to wait outside while Rey picked up her dress from the dry cleaner’s for a friend’s party. It gave him an excuse to think. 

His gaze grows unfocused as he looks past the glass, into the dark interior of the shop. He has to think about her. His brain gives him no alternative. How could it stop thinking about Rey, ever? She’s so beautiful, so kind, so open. The connection he feels to her is ridiculous. It only happens like this in movies. In books. No one got this lucky in real life, and it certainly never happens twice. 

And the way she moved under him, came apart under his fingers -- they didn’t put that in movies.  _ Well, some movies  _ his mind contributes dirtily. None of it was artifice. None was performance. He had gotten to see her at her most vulnerable, most elemental, and the caveman part of his brain wanted to haul her over his shoulder and find somewhere to do it again. She was so responsive, that getting to touch her, give her pleasure, made him feel real again, somehow. 

_ If he told her… would she still want him? Would she… come with him?  _ It was too much to hope, on both counts. This lie gave him the thing he wanted, then barred him from keeping it. 

An inexplicable pang of regret strikes. He’s spent the better part of his only day of freedom ever in a beautiful city, with the most incredible girl he’s ever met, told her things he has never told anyone, and she doesn't really know who he is. 

_ I’m going to tell her.  _ The promise, even just to himself, makes his spirits brighten. He tries it aloud. “I’m going to tell her.” 

“Tell me what?” 

The voice from behind him whips him around, and he can’t answer. 

Rey is luminous. She is wearing a crisp seersucker dress that buttons down the front, with a full skirt and starched collar. She did something to make her hair .. fluffier? She looks so fresh, and simple, that he wants to gather her to him and beg.

Noting his lack of response, she grins. “That you’re thinking of a haircut?” When he looks blankly, she gestures to the posters. 

“Oh, no.” He smiles. “That’s a nice dress.” 

“Thanks!” she replies brightly. “It has pockets!” She demonstrates by slipping her phone inside a slit at her hip. 

He just nods. She was excited about pockets? He notices something floating out from behind her skirt. “What’s that?” 

She holds up the hanger in her left hand. “Ackbar said that someone never picked up this shirt. I thought it would fit you.” 

Ben considers the light blue oxford, then nods. “Looks like. Ready for a party?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one, thanks for reading! 
> 
> Also, DRESSES WITH POCKETS I KNOW RIGHT.


	13. Chapter 13

Ben and Rey stand dead center at the top of the ramp to the bridge, facing an expanse of cobblestones flanked by marble angels leading the way to an ancient, round castle. The sunset makes everything a warm dusty rose, casting long shadows out over the Tiber.

“The Ponte Sant’Angelo is the oldest bridge in Rome. It’s so old, that no one remembers its real name. The castle over there was built by Hadrian as a mausoleum, but it became a fortress and residence, and now a public park. It’s ….” Rey trails off.

“... beautiful.” Ben finishes. He can't think of other words to describe this second in time, and the way it is filling him, pushing at his seams. 

Rey makes a little _hurumpf._ “I mean, it’s a bridge. It’s an old bridge, but, I never got why people think it's so romantic. It’s barely structurally sound.”

“Well,” he turns towards her, taking her hand. “People don’t remember if things are structurally sound. They remember how they _make them feel.”_

She gives him a begrudging grin, then stands on her tiptoes and presses a chaste kiss to his lips. It humbles him to his core.

He looks down at their linked hands. “Listen, Rey, there’s something I have to tell you- “

She cuts him off. “Look! There’s the boat!” She points to an open-top tourist barge strung with twinkle lights down the bank, and uses his hand to pull Ben towards a crumbling set of steps towards the river’s edge.

After an awkward introduction to the party honorees -  _why would that curly-haired guy be so grumpy at his own party? -_  Rey and Ben lean against the railing sipping white wine. 

“... Poe said it was the best first date ever, so Finn tracked Gioimo down and asked if they could clear the decks and have their engagement party on the boat. I secretly think they both always wanted to be pilots.” 

Ben isn’t really listening. He is, on some level, but his mind is mostly absorbed with staring across the bow at the river and wondering how, in the name of all the gods, is he going to let this day end. How is he going to walk away from her?

He vaguely registers a change in the music, to something acoustic and slow. _Baby, it’s been a long day, baby._

“Would you like to dance?” His question comes out of the ether, but it makes her smile. The surprises never end today. In his life, he’s only ever danced with his mother, and some cousins, after copious begging. Today is different.

Rey gently guides him to the center of the makeshift dance floor, exposed light bulbs glowing softly overhead. His hands hesitantly find her waist, her back. Her arms wind around his neck and they start to sway. The sun is completely gone, and his chest squeezes, cursing time. This quiet, fragile moment, one that every normal person has gotten to have twenty times over, means more to him than he can bear to say. Or bear to lose.

“Rey.”

“Hmmm?” she murmurs into the tendon running up his neck.

“We spent all day doing things I wanted to do.”

He can feel her grin spread against his collarbone. “Yeah, we did.”

“Why?”

She pauses, and her answer is quiet. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”

He uses the arm looped around her waist to pull her closer to him, because this woman will never, ever be close enough.

“You know, at midnight, I turn into a pumpkin and drive away in my glass slipper,” he whispers into her hair.

“And that will be the end of the fairy tale.” Her response is tremulous. 

The song croons. _You are the best thing that ever happened to me._

_____________________________

 

The song ends. Rey curses Finn and his perfect soundtrack-selecting abilities. She’d kept her face hidden in Ben’s shoulder as they danced, willing her memory to retain every single second.

They separate as the opening notes of a Dylan cover starts. _God, this is going to hurt._

“Do you want to go?” He’s picked up on the change in her. It’s like he can read her mind, sometimes.

“Yeah.” She mumbles some excuse about saying goodbye, and he nods with his head towards the deck back to the riverbank. He’ll wait there.

She weaves her way back to her friends. Poe is leaning against the bar, and Finn is uselessly trying to tame a wayward curl.

“Great party, guys.”

“You’re leaving." Finn always knows.

“Yeah. I need … Finn, I need the photos.”

“I thought you might.” He pulls a little black SIM card out of his jacket, ensconced in a plastic case. “They’re all there, Peanut. No copies.”

She slips it into her dress, sending up a silent thanks for dresses with pockets.

Poe, damn him, has to try one more time. “You’re missing the scoop of a lifetime.”

Rey rounds on him, wary but suddenly incensed. “He is not a _scoop_ . He’s a _person_ . A gentle, trusting person who just wants to help others. I can’t…. “ she struggles to find the right words to smush the petulant expression on Poe’s face with the enormity of what this betrayal would do to Ben. “ _I won’t_ ….”

“Oh, Peanut.”

The look on Finn’s face makes her want to claw. And bite. It’s filled with sadness and pity and… hope?

“Babe,” he lays a hand on Poe’s arm as she thinks about karate kicking them both. “You need to let this go.”

Poe huffs, but otherwise humors his future husband. Rey is ready to launch into a full-on seethe when yelling and a glass breaking interrupts her from the other end of the boat. She’s moving before the boys can stop her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Bridges aren't romantic." - Rey Niima, Chapter 2
> 
> “People don’t remember names, or dates when they go home. They remember how places made them feel .” - Rey Niima, Chapter 7 (slightly misquoting Maya Angelou) 
> 
> GUYS SYMMETRY IN STORIES MAKES ME FEEL THE FEELS PLEASE TELL ME YOU FEEL THE FEELS TOO.
> 
> [Here's our castle. It's a real place.](https://cdn.getyourguide.com/img/tour_img-392050-146.jpg) 
> 
> The first song referenced is [You Are The Best Thing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GMe6FNn5yVQ) by Ray Le Montagne and the second is [You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I2wvaWTTmz8) by Bob Dylan, covered by Miley Cyrus. (I learned how to make links, please congratulate me effusively.) 
> 
> #DressesWithPocketsForever
> 
> So, so sorry that I didn't get this updated on Friday. I had a situation where I just couldn't get to a computer, and I don't trust my phone for formatting and spelling as far as I can throw it.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

 

The river fills Ben’s field of vision as he practices in his head. 

_ “Rey, I am in the army, but I’m also a prince.”  _ God, that sounded so stupid. 

_ “Rey, I lied to you. I’m actually the Crown Prince of Naboo. My name is still Ben, though.”  _

_ “Rey, spending a day with you has been…”  _

_ “Rey, I….”  _

His adams apple works up and down. How does that one finish? Finding a word for it feels scary, and enormous, and terrifying, but standing here on a summer’s night, he’s eliminated “ _ really like you”  _ and “ _ care about you _ ” as insufficient. That really only leaves one option. 

A light tap on his shoulder stirs him.  _ It’s time.  _ He gathers his courage. He’s faced down heads of Parliament. He can say this. 

He turns looks straight into the eyes of -- 

_ Hux?  _

“Oh good,” Hux’s tone is smug, condescending. “I’ve found you. Let’s go.” 

_ Doom.  _ The only emotion that registers with Ben is a condemnation, a darkness. He regroups. 

“Armitage.” he greets him primly. “Good to see you. Let me say goodbye to my tour guide, and we can get back.” He doesn’t want to cause a scene, or expose Rey in a way that would embarrass her. He would  _ really  _ like it if she never meets Hux. 

“No.” Hux’s hands are on his back and he’s shoving him towards the ramp. “You’ve gotten away with your day of fun for long enough. I have a car waiting.” 

Ben begins to panic, to twist. He drops his wineglass and it shatters. He can’t leave her without saying goodbye.  _ He can’t leave her. _ He shoves frantically back at Hux, scanning the crowd for Rey. 

“Armitage, you don’t understand. I just need….” he pushes his cousin, hard, and gains a few inches, but Hux is back on him, wrapping him in wiry arms. Ben struggles. 

Suddenly, Hux is releasing him, and before he knows it, there’s a muffled thump, and Hux is on the deck. Ben looks up, shocked, and finds the surprised eyes of Rey looking back at him. Her mouth gapes as she looks at him, then down at Hux, then her clenched fist.  _She literally decked him._

“Ow.” 

He grabs her non-punching hand - _holy shit,_ _she punched someone for me -_ and sprints for the ramp. 

 

_____________________

 

Rey has no idea what just happened. Ben was in trouble, and then she punched someone ( _ who was that I punched?)  _ and then there is running. Ben is in the lead, and her feet are flying. They are across the bank, up the steps, and back at their spot center stage on the bridge before she catches her breath.

Rey keeps moving, but Ben stops her, using their clasped hands to spin her back to him. He gathers her in close. 

“You know, you were really great back there.” 

“You weren’t so bad yourself.” She smiles at him in the moonlight. 

If this was a movie, music would swell and cameras would pan. She imagines the picture they make on the bridge, surrounded by moonlit angels, a line of ancient stones and castle framing them in the background. It would be cinema magic. Instead, the kiss Ben gives her is real world magic. 

He dips her back slightly, supporting her by her waist, and he consumes her. His hand cups the back of her neck as his lips find hers. They are so full, so perfect. It feels like he’s pouring so much into this one embrace, this one moment, but it’s a torrent. An avalanche. A tidal wave. It is so much that Rey struggles to examine each drop as they pour into her through his hands, his mouth. Eventually, she surrenders to the current, and just kisses this force of nature right back. Before giving in fully to the sensation, her mind sends one more traitorous, elated thought. 

_ He’s kissing me like he loves me.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my chapter count went up by one, because I mislabled my chapters and had *two* chapter fourteens. Sorry, that doesn't mean you get two posts today, guys. (This is why I am currently seeking a beta reader -- let me know if you want a sneak peak at the rest of this, or a go at my *completed* next fic, which is Olicity + Two Weeks Notice. I'll publish Chapter 1 of that the same week Chapter 24 of this beaut goes up, in a little over a month). 
> 
> If the *ahem* earlier departures from Roman Holiday weren't enough, things are about to take a hard left in the next week. Gird your loins.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

She has absolutely no idea how they made it back to her apartment. Geographically, she could make a guess, but the detours into alleys or back streets when keeping their skin apart was too much to ask led them on a looping, winding trail. Every time she would press to him, their tongues would lash and pet, his hands would wander right to the border of her sanity, Ben would stop. She would have sold every stick of furniture in the building to get him naked, but he is shifting uneasily from foot to foot in her doorway. She crosses to him. 

“Rey, I can explain that guy, at the party. I haven’t told you - I should have - but I’m -” 

“Stop. I don’t care -” she interrupts, crossing to the door and pulling him in by the shirtfront. 

“I don’t want you to regret -” they talk over each other, desperate to share their own sort of truth. They both pause, waiting. She’s still holding his shirt. 

“Ben.” His name makes his chest still. “You’re just Ben to me.” Spreading her hands flat over his sternum, she studies the trail of buttons between her palms, gathering up her breath, and her courage. “Look, I know…. I know there’s something going on with you. That whenever you leave, you can’t come back. But I haven’t felt this close to someone since….” Rey can’t finish. She presses her eyes closed, brushing her cheeks with her lashes. 

She can tell he’s coiled, ready to launch the enormous truth that will crush this fragile moment. But he stays silent. She can’t leave this unsaid. 

“You keep asking me if I’ll regret this.” She tilts her chin up to meet his eyes. “I will never, ever regret a single second that I spend with you. Even if it’s just one day, even if it hurts me when you go, I’ll…” 

She fights to say what is burning inside her, and it comes out as a whisper. “ _ I’ll never regret being with you. _ ” 

It’s enough for him. He leaves the truth unspoken, as his hands move to her waist, then slowly to the buttons on the front of her dress. 

_______________________________

 

Everything else fades away. 

The gentleness in their hands as the undressed each other make his throat heavy. 

His hands shakily open the buttons under the collar of her dress, and slide the open front down until the bodice pools around her waist with her skirt. He glides his hands back up her torso. Belly button. Ribs. The real person under his hands makes him feel light, bright, transparent with joy. 

Ben is in love with her. He doesn’t really like her. He doesn’t really care about her. He loves her. It feels enormous. 

She’s finished with the buttons on his borrowed oxford, and it slides to the floor. She follows with his jeans, and he helps, stepping out of them and toeing off his shoes, using her waist for balance. It seems like a good time to slide down her skirt, her underwear. She deftly steps out of her shoes and unclips her bra, and as he rises, she’s naked before him. 

“Rey.” His hands hover, hesitant. “You are so beautiful.” 

Her arms twine around his neck, and she presses her bare body against him. This is heaven. Nirvana. Paradise, Elysium, Shangri-la. His hands roam and he leans to kiss her, deliberate and slow. He cups her thighs, the soft curves where her legs meet her butt and she sighs. Sliding up, he fits his hands into her lower back, tongue moving over hers languidly. He’s determined. If this is the only chance he ever gets to be this happy, he’s going to make it last.  

Inching up her rib cage, Ben drops smaller, plush kisses to her lips, as he skims his closed fingers up the outside arcs of her breasts, until his hands trail up her collarbone and take charge of her neck. He tilts Rey’s head just so, and deepens their kiss, as her fingers wind and clench in the hair at his nape. He knows what he’s doing. By telegraph, in their own secret Morse code of lips and tongues, of dives and swoops and slides, Ben is trying to tell her without sound how much he wants her. How much he needs her. How much he loves her. 

It’s not enough. He has to show her. Slowly, he pivots them, and leans her back onto her bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it KILLS me to have to split this chapter and the next over a week. PLEASE come back on Friday because I am like sweating in anticipation of posting the other half. And have a great week!


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Ben stands in his boxer briefs, hovering above Rey’s prone, naked form. The streetlight through the window slashes across her breasts, her abdomen, and he is helpless in the face of his wants. His needs. He drops to his knees at the end of the bed, and uses her hips to pull her closer.

He starts nuzzling against her like a kitten, dropping kisses and licks across her stomach. He works down, feeling her start to squirm and pant under his tongue. His nose nuzzles the crook of her leg, and he runs a hand down and tucks it behind her knee.

“Please, Rey.” _God, what am I asking?_ “Can I, can I please--” he’s incoherent. He has to taste her, feel her on his face and mouth.

She understands what he’s begging for, and shifts slightly so her folds part and she opens to him. He groans. She’s perfect, even in this dim light. He’s going to see her completely, someday, he promises himself. For now, he brings her knee up, opening her further, and leans into her with his face.

His first lick is a swirl, like the perfect circle at the top of an ice cream cone. He spins and spins around her, then flattens his tongue, sliding down low to tickle at her entrance with the tip. The feel of her sliding over his tongue, exploding on his taste buds … they don’t make words for it.

She begins to buck under his mouth, whimpering his name. _God_ , he thinks, stiffening more in his briefs, _she is so responsive._ He gently stills her hip with one hand, and grinds himself against the foot of her mattress as he makes long, languid stripes back up to her clit.

On approach, she grows frantic. Ben is so dialed in on this sensual, gorgeous woman that the rest of the world has become a vacuum. He has never felt this connected to anyone, ever. There’s no comparison. Every moan, every stutter shows him exactly what she wants, and he would hand over missile codes to give it to her. He would destroy planets.

His tongue finds her engorged, delicious nub, and he begins to circle it, zooming in in circumference and intensity then backing off, once, then twice. She offers a weak cry as he makes a third pass.

“Ben please. Please, I’m so close I -”

_Destroy. Fucking. Planets._

He slides the hand from behind her knee down her hamstring to her opening, and teases her with the tip of his thickest digit, redoubling his laps and circles and pointing his tongue to hardness. His cock leaks with arousal.

Ben’s barely a first knuckle in when Rey’s knees clamp around his ears and oh god, she’s coming. The noises pouring from her lips make him feel like he might come too, and he lets his mouth go loose, withdrawing his finger. He laps at her gently, letting her ride out the orgasm on his face.

Nothing. Nothing will ever come close again. She’s ruined him.

She doesn’t seem to care as she drops her legs, and reaches down and pulls him up roughly by the ears. He follows her directions, climbing up on the bed and grinding his erection down to her. Rey immediately releases her ears and starts palming it through his underwear. She licks into his mouth, and he spreads the tastes of her left on his tongue gently over her lips.

“Ben.” She pops off his mouth, whispering urgently. “Condom.”

_Thank you sweet mother of Christ._

_______________

Ben climbs off her and strips, releasing his impressive cock. Rey knew he was big, but the immediate prospect of having him inside her is a little intimidating. The length is impressive, but it’s really the thickness that makes her clench involuntarily. He angles a little, and the streetlight gives her a glorious new view. _Oh god. I’m going to like this so, so much._

She hears the wrapper of the condom she fished from under her bed rip, and she watches him line the circle up with his head.

“Wait.”

He stills, and she sits up and scoots to the edge of the bed, taking his velvety shaft in her hand and gently guiding him closer. She uses the other hand to realign the condom, and roll slowly over his head. She stops, letting the tightness tease his engorged crown, then swiftly rolls it all the way to the base.

“ _H_ _ow are you so sexy_ ” he grits out through clenched teeth.

Satisfied, she scoots back up the bed, and lays on her back. He kneels, the sudden mass making the edge of the mattress dip, then shifts so he’s on top of her, elbows supporting most of his weight on either side of her.

“Hi.” He nudges her nose with his.

“Hi.”

“Still okay?” She looks up at him, and pauses. He would stop, if she asked him. He’s just so _good_. It makes her lungs feel a size to small.

She shifts under him, and his firmness brushes against her _very_ sensitive clit. She gasps. “More than okay.”

Gently balancing his weight on her, he lines up his hips, and she drops a hand down to guide him. When his wide, blunt tip presses against her warm, waiting opening, her body bucks involuntarily, driving them together.

Rey gasps at the sudden fullness. He is stretching her walls in ways that they never have, ways that feel new and impossible and … _amazing._ She grinds down, just as Ben pulls away.

“Rey I’m sorry, I meant to go slow! You’re so wet. God I’m so sorry, I--”

“No, no,” she soothes Ben gently, petting those truly impressive pectorals. “ It feels good.” She wiggles. “It feels _so_ good. Just.. slowly.”

He drops his head to her collarbone and lets out a slow exhale, before sitting back on his haunches, still inside her. Having him looming above her seems odd for a second, until he lifts her hips gently and beings to rock in and out in tiny waves, her hips tilted up to meet him.

 _Oh._ This position keeps Rey from thrusting up at him again, lets Ben maintain more control over the depth. He moves in her slowly, shallow at first, just the way she asked him to. His tenderness is overwhelming.

She links her ankles behind his back, pulling her pelvis closer to his and angling her up until -- _oh shit_. The few inches of height she added under her ass moved her heretofore unstimulated g-spot into the direct line of Ben’s enormous cock. He rubs over her again and again and she uses muscles she didn’t know she had to draw him deeper, closer.

“Ben --” her hands scrabble at the sheets. “Please don’t stop.”

She looks up at him and realizes the other reason he chose this position. He’s got a full view of her body, and his eyes are raking up and down her, drinking her in. He isn't just looking at her. He is _seeing her_. Everywhere his eyes travel they travel, she feels fire. Electricity. Magic.

He picks up the pace, working into her faster and deeper -- _how is that possible?_ \- leaving her gasping. He loops an arm behind her waist, supporting the angle she’s chosen, and his arms flex as he brings the other up to --

Rey’s mind stops as he splays a hand over her belly and lays a thick, flat thumb back over her still-wet clit. His thrusts rub her against him as he massages her inside, over and over. It’s too much. Ben is everywhere, his eyes are everywhere, looking at her like he could come from the sight of her alone. He curves towards her, hot and masculine, and reads her body perfectly, rolling and thrusting and pressing as she begs in a primal chant.

_“Ben, Ben, ohhhh Ben-”_

It’s the awed look on his face that pushes her over the edge, and the fuse hits the powder. The accumulations of sensations he’s set up for her fall like dominoes, brilliant and crystal, and she’s overwhelmed, riding out the blizzard of pleasure and intimacy.

Rey registers that he comes right behind her, hands back on her hips, cock pumping in and out slower and slower as he fills the condom. She swears she can feel it grow warm.

Spent, he rolls them to lay side by side, removing himself from her gently. He presses their foreheads together, and she lets him come down as she neatly removes the condom and chucks it at the waste bin. _Benefits of a small apartment._

“Rey…” When he can finally speak again, he sounds _wrecked_. He pants. “When you… when you said my name…” Ben can only finish the sentence with deep, uneven pants. 

“Me too.” He’s unintelligible, blissed out to the point of incoherence, but she understands him perfectly. They are the only two people in the world who speak this forgotten, amazing post-sex dialect. Rey gently nudges him on to his back, tucking her head beneath his chin and slinging a leg over his. “I know. Me too.”

The compass is still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh God. I published sex.
> 
> I will be just hiding here under the table for a while while I get over myself. Please enjoy.
> 
> Have a good weekend and see you for some truthy moments on Monday.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

 

When Ben wakes up, he knows immediately it will be the worst day of his life. How ironic that if follows the best. The morning sun spangles the postcards tacked to Rey's wall, and his eyes scan them briefly. So, so many people who have left her life. His throat tightens at the thought of being one of them. 

He focuses on the heavy weight against his side, then curls his arm around the warm, squirming, naked bundle of Rey tucked up tight against him in her twin bed. It’s time. He has to tell her. If this is it… 

Maybe it’s a fantasy to pretend that she’ll understand, that she won’t feel betrayed. The hope that everything will be fine feels like a complete lie; but it's lie he has to tell himself to get the words out.  “Rey, I have to go back.” 

“Back?” She’s adorably groggy, but they both have to wake up now. 

“To the Naboo embassy. I -- I wasn’t entirely truthful. I am in the army, but the ‘family’ business is running a country.” 

She props herself up on her elbows

“I’m sorry.” The very real possibility of hurting her makes him panic. He’s rushing, emotion edging his voice. “I shouldn’t have lied. I’m so sorry I lied to you. But the way you treated me, like an ordinary person… Rey, it’s been so long.” He chokes up. “Forgive me, please, you have to --.” No more words are allowed past his tight, quivering jaw. 

Suddenly, she’s everywhere, blanketing him. Comforting him. It’s a balm, and torture. 

“It doesn’t matter. It doesn't matter.” She covers his mouth, morning breath and all, kissing his lips, the peppering his nose, eyes, hairline with smooth presses. She frames his face in her hands. “I kind of figured it out, and it doesn’t matter. You are just Ben to me. Just Ben.” She wraps him in her arms, and nuzzles into him.  _ Just Ben.  _

____________________________________ 

She holds him for as long as she dares. She can’t think about this man, inside her, in her bed, in her heart. She can’t keep him there or it will kill her. It has to end. It has to end today. 

Rey told herself it would hurt less since it was just one day. She’s a bad liar. 

They leave the apartment on BB-8, him pressed against her back. She tries not to read into the way he clings to her as she pilots them back to the Embassy. Her route is brutal, efficient, and there’s no traffic this early to delay their arrival. 

They are there before she’s ready. Before her heart is ready. She cuts the engine, and sits perfectly still.  _ He’s not lost. I brought him home.  _

“Rey?” his voice is quiet, tenuous. “Were you happy? With me?” 

Her voice doesn’t answer, but her mind does.  _ I’m not happy. I’m in love with you.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, it's a post-sex short Monday full of ANNNNGST. But please believe me when I tell you than on Friday, SHIT IS GOING DOWN. See you soon.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Chapter 17: 
> 
> (Rey) tries not to read into the way (Ben) clings to her as she pilots them back to the Embassy. Her route is brutal, efficient, and there’s no traffic this early to delay their arrival.
> 
> They are there before she’s ready. Before her heart is ready. She cuts the engine, and sits perfectly still. _He's not lost. I brought him home_.
> 
> “Rey?” his voice is quiet, tenuous. “Were you happy? With me?”
> 
> Her voice doesn’t answer, but her mind does. 
> 
>  
> 
> _I'm not happy. I'm in love with you._

**Chapter 18**

Rey is silent. Ben knows he is doomed.

 _It would be easier if she lied_. If she was chipper, and sent him off with a peck and a goodbye an an enthusiastic “thanks for the sex” wave. The silence is worse. The silence tells him there’s a chasm, a huge gaping ocean of possibility that they stand on the lip of without diving in.

He wants to explore the ocean. Map it. He wants to swim in it every day, float and splash and tread water with her until they know its depth and breadth. He needs more time with her. He needs an answer.

He gets neither.  

The front door to the embassy swings open, and Hux storms out. He looks like a caged animal, feral with indignation and anger. Ben swings out from behind Rey, following a sudden, primal urge to protect her

Hux stops a few feet in front of him, breathing hard. Ben takes a small consolation in the bruise on his jaw. It looks swollen.

He spreads his arms slightly in front of Rey, shielding her. “She knows, Armitage.”

The sneer Hux produces is the stuff of villainy. “Of course she knows! She’s a reporter!”

The world veers on its axis. He swears horns stop honking, pigeons stop cooing. _It would be easier if she lied._

It’s painful. It’s physically painful.

____________________________

Rey scrambles of the bike and reaches for Ben. She’s not sure, but her instinct is to check him for injury. He’s doubled over like he’s been stabbed. But when her hands move out towards him, he shies away, and turns on her.

“Is that true?”

Gravity chooses that moment to double its attraction. Every molecule in her body drops in fear and misery. He reads her silence perfectly.

“You LIED TO ME?” he half yells and seems to double in size like a thunderhead. “I told you the truth! I told you things that…” he loses himself in fury, then doubles back in force. “Tell me the truth, Rey. TELL ME.”

Rey feels like she’s bobbing helplessly in an ocean. She has to make him see. She has to tell him. She has to stop the compass that is careening inside her.

It would be helpful if she could speak.

Ben is livid, brutal and overwhelming. His anger pushes her away like an invisible force. “If you publish one word of any of this, I swear to God I will bury you. I will end your paper, I will ruin your friends, I will annihilate your universe.” He gathers up for another assault.

“Ben” Rey finds her voice and she’s half yelling, half sobbing, and still trying to connect her hands to him “it’s not like that!”

He won’t let her touch him, and evades her begging hands. They have to go somewhere, so she scrabbles helplessly at her jacket, her pockets, searching for something to show him. Her hand connects to a tiny square, and the only path becomes clear. This has to work. She pushes his field of anger back at him in her mind.

“LISTEN.” She grabs his arm, hard, and forces him to turn to her. With every gram of fight and bravery in her body, she starts in a firm voice. “I write for a travel blog. I didn’t recognize you and when I did my boss wanted me to get a scoop. The sent a photographer after us -” Ben bristles, and breaks from her grasp, but she pushes on “But I called the whole thing off.”

She plows ahead. “I realized that it would be a crap story. I could spend a lifetime with you and you would still surprise me. One day will never be enough.”

Rey uses her fingers to unclench Ben’s massive fist, and presses the memory card in its plastic case to his palm. “No one will ever see a picture, or read a word.” He glares at the plastic square like he’s trying to melt it. She swallows. The compass reels and the hardest thing she’s ever done is happening right now.

“Because I’m in love with you.”

His eyes fly to hers and lock. For one brief, pure second, she hopes.

Then the redhead laughs. A cruel, barking noise that saws through their moment, ripping Rey in half and tearing Ben from her in every way that matters.  

“In love? With him? Oh, man, you will do anything for a story. She’s probably the one that set you up at the bar in the first place!”

 _What_?  _No_. Ben’s eyes shine with a new kind of anger, and instead of defiance, Rey is just afraid. His hands retract back into iron and the weight of his black eyes crushes her.

“That’s not true.” She fights to keep her eyes on his, her voice steady. “ _That. Is. Not. True._ ” She’s playing with fire now, baiting the bear, and the reality that she’s lost him makes her reckless. “I would never do that. I’m not that kind of person, Ben!”

“I don’t know what kind of person you are.” The words are quiet, deadly snakes that curl around her, and bind her in place.

And then, the unthinkable. The unbearable. She’s been preparing for this moment since the second that she met him, and still, she’s not ready for it. It steals all the noise, all the oxygen, all the light from the world.

Ben turns and walks away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay please stop holding your breath and exhale now. I'm gonna need you to keep breathing because I won't be posting a chapter on Monday (Christmas Eve) and you can't hold that breath until next Friday or you will die, and I can't have that on my conscience as I open presents and gorge myself on cookies -- it will really ruin the festive spirit, you know. 
> 
> THANK YOU to all of you who have been here since Chapter 1, and THANK YOU to all of you who just joined the party and crashed through all 20K+ words of my fluff and angst, and THANK YOU to everyone in between. I wish you all a happy and safe couple of days, no matter what you are celebrating. 
> 
> Please be a lovely Santa's elf and leave me a comment, it would make my 2018!


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Finn and Poe eventually find her on a curb half a block away from the embassy. They don’t ask questions. They bundle her back to her apartment, and put her to bed. She wakes up after noon to a note that they’ve gone for lunch, and will be back with carbs and wine.

Rey grabs her keys.

She revs her bike, and settles on the saddle as a numbness takes hold of her brain that ceases to register time. Direction. Emotion. She drives in circles, or squares, or rhombuses or octagons until it’s almost dark. BB’s fuel dial dings at her. Rey pulls over.

The geometry of her grief brought her back to their bridge. She parks and locks the Vespa, and walks slowly up the incline.

Rey stands at the spot where he kissed her, where she thought he might love her back. She takes out her phone. Twenty missed calls and even more texts. She flips on the camera and shoots a blurry photo out at the castle in the fading light.

She stands there until the sun comes up. With the last percent of battery in her phone, she posts the picture to her Instagram without a caption. A secret. A goodbye.

_______________________________________________________________

Benjamin Chewbacca Organa Solo has come undone.

It wouldn’t seem that way to anyone, really. Any casual observer would think he’s been reformed into a model son and heir apparent. For the last six weeks he has shown up, sat down, listened carefully, and measured his responses in coffee spoons.

His mother is worried.

She corners him after he sits stoically though meeting in which a cabinet minister made some off-color comments that would have sent him through the roof three months ago.

‘“Ben -- “ Leia starts, but falters. “Are you feeling okay? You haven’t seemed like yourself since you got back from Rome.”

“Mom,” he sighs, the wary weight of the world pressing him, “being myself isn’t really part of the equation anymore.”

She quirks the _what the fuck_ eyebrow, and he goes on.

“This is me now.” He waves his arm at the palace corridor. “This is what I do now. This is what I _have_ to do now. There’s not room for anything else.”

“Oh honey.” Ben wonders when she shrank. She looks older, tired. “That can’t be true, or this life will destroy you.”

She sits down next to him on his bench. “That’s what your dad was, for me. Han was silly. He was kind. He could cut through all the pretentious bullshit. I mean, he got me to _use_ the word bullshit!” She smiles to herself. “He was the light that kept me from getting lost in all the responsibility.”

“ _Responsibility”_ he spits it out. “You don’t have to remind me about responsibility. Were I not completely aware of my _responsibility_ , my duty to my family and my country, _I wouldn’t have come back from Rome._ ”

She leans back. _Why was he talking so loud?_ Ben has been confused, and hurt for a long time. It’s never had this fine a point. He drops his head into his hands.

“Mom, I met someone. In Rome.” He’s talking to the floor, but knows she can hear him. She draws close again. “I thought… I thought it was different, but she was lying to me. She was a reporter. It wasn’t real for her, but … it was real for me.” He won’t cry. He won’t.

“But she hasn’t published anything yet?”

“No. She said she wouldn’t because she felt… “ he doesn’t finish that train of thought. “But she set me up. She didn’t tell me the truth.”

“And you told her the truth?”

Silence seems like the best answer.

“Honey, it’s been six weeks. And your exploits are front-page news. If she said she wasn’t going to write a story because she cared about you, maybe she wasn’t lying.”

Leia stands, and he feels her hand drop on his head hesitantly. “Ben,” her voice is gentle. “Find some light. You have time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, thanks for keeping up with this story! I appreciate every single one of you :) 
> 
> Also, it's been two years since we lost our Space Mom and I miss her. That is all.
> 
> *Sorry for the Holiday Break, posts resume on Monday, Jan 7th!!!


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Pining is a good look for Ben. But it hurts like hell. 

He starts accepting all the “fluff errands.” The ribbon cuttings, school visits, events with puppies. All the silly stuff Han was first in line for, the stuff he knows she would love. He always felt bad for his dad, being sent on stupid field trips while politicians made important decisions. But now he gets it -- this stuff is  _ fun.  _ And people are really, genuinely kind. 

At night, he reads everything of hers he can find on  _ La Resistanza.  _ There’s a gap after the day before they met ( _ that “Romantic Bridges” thing seems hollow,  _ he chuckles to himself), but a couple of weeks after he left, she starts again, a series of profiles on small business owners and craftsmen. The first one is Amilyn, standing in front of her flower wall. 

Not a word is about him. 

He finds Rey’s Instagram. There’s a lot of noodles, but the last update is from that day. It’s a picture of their bridge, no caption. He has to set the phone down. 

When he runs out of her posts, he tracks down her dad. The memorials by his peers are effusive, as are the ones by his fans. “The way he wrote about the world made me believe I was there, holding his hand. I’ve never been able to travel, but he made me feel like I did” Betty from Ohio commented on Peter Mayle’s  _ in memoriam.  _

Her mom is harder to find. She only published one children's chapter book, about an otter left behind by its family that saves a town by breaking a dam. It has five stars on Amazon. Ben presses the “Order Now” button. Two days later, he reads it all in one sitting. He definitely does not cry.  

Life rolls on. Ben works. He broods. He makes Chewy absolutely miserable. Eventually, he’s at a field day for Naboo’s new sixth grade academy when he spots a girl with brown braids sitting alone. She’s reading, and the cover draws him in. 

“Are you reading about Hermione the Otter?” he asks her, squatting to meet her at eye level. 

She recognizes him, and her eyes go wide. She nods.

“I just read that for the first time a little bit ago, and it is one of my favorites.” 

“It’s my favorite too, your highness,” she volunteers, quietly. 

“Your highness, a photo?” the school photographer asks. Ben checks with the girl, and then uses his finger to mark her place in her book. They look at the camera, and because he can’t help it, he smiles. 

____________________________

Rey waits until she’s in her apartment before she opens her daily email. Rose blocked all mentions of Naboo and its crown prince from the Internet at work, but she set up a Google Alert for him on her personal email address. She only lets herself look once a day. It’s all she can take.

It’s been a full email, lately. Ben has been everywhere, opening hospitals, cuddling puppies, being charming and handsome.  _ It fucking sucks  _ serious voice contributes. 

Today, there’s just one post. It’s from an elementary school website. Ben squats in front of a girl, probably eleven or twelve. He’s got a finger in her book, and he is  _ beaming  _ at the camera. The smile makes Rey’s heart stutter. Benjamin Organa Solo has a lot of smiles. She has tried hard to remember them all. The listening smile. The bored but polite smile. The pastry-eating smile. But she hasn’t seen this one, the  _ Ben  _ one since… 

_ Since we were together _ serious voice finishes. 

Seeing it again hurts in a place she can’t name. 

“Rey?” It’s Maz, knocking gently even though she has a key. “I’m making lasagna. Do you want dinner?” 

“No thanks, Maz.” She looks at the closed door. “I’d rather be alone.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the holiday hiatus, but I'm back and ready to finish this over the next two weeks! It is my first one of these that I've published, and I kind of anticipated having a hiccup at some point -- thanks all for your patience. 
> 
> Hope you all had a wonderful start to 2019.
> 
> (LATER UPDATE: Just realized I passed 1000 hits and my mind EXPLODED. THANK YOU FOR READING, I appreciate every single read, like, and comment so much!)


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Eventually, Ben gets drunk. He knew it was bound to happen. He couldn’t stay away from her any longer, and it seems easier to see her, feel her again when he’s comfortably numb. 

Maybe he should ask Chewy for some weed, too. That's legal now. His oldest friend seemed to understand when he silently snagged a bottle of gin and some seltzer from a  butler's pantry, and gave him space as he made his way back to his dark suite. Ben would bet the crown jewels that Chewy is tucked up somewhere outside his door, thumbing through an old Dashiell Hammet, protecting him in the best way he knows how. 

But he can't protect Ben from his memories. 

He’s seen her face every day, in his mind, In his dreams. Her smiling at him, throwing an imaginary hotdog in the Colosseum, sipping wine. Thrusting her hands into her dress pockets with glee. Slow dancing. Eyes opening after a kiss. Moving under his hands. It kills him, every time, that he might be forgetting something. The light. Her smell. Her voice, that comes back to him in the quietest moments. 

_ “Don’t leave out the good parts, Ben.”  _

He sets his third gin and tonic down next to his laptop, and fishes the SIM card out of his toiletries bag.  _ I wasn’t hiding it,  _ he lies in his mind. The case has toothpaste on it. He cleans it up, and plugs it in. 

Immediately, he’s assaulted by her. He scrolls past the best day of his life, once, twice. Their backs, side by side on the Spanish Steps. Waiving to Amilyn as they leave her bakery, hand in hand. Backlit in a side alley of the Colosseum, his hand at her cheek. The shortest, brightest day goes on and on, over and over in front of his eyes. Them eating pizza, walking, sitting on her Vespa. 

The photos end there, but his mind fills in the rest. Waking up in her arms. Dancing with her. Kissing her on the bridge. 

Eventually, the day ends the same way. With Rey saying she loved him. And with him walking away and not looking back. 

He closes the laptop, and the sudden loss of light in the dark room makes his head spin. Eyes closed, he fumbles to his bed and lays down. Something is bothering him about the photos, but he can’t pinpoint it. The gin wins, and he sleeps. 

___________

Rey flips back and forth between two photos on her phone. One of Ben sleeping in her bed, before she knew all that he was. One of a tiny camera display, two happy friends eating pizza. They are all she has. 

“Rey?” 

She hastily shoves the phone under the conference table, looking around the conference table at the expectant faces of her friends. 

Finn starts again patiently. “Do you have any ideas of where I could shoot that Halloween photo spread? The one about demons?” 

“Yeah.” She refocuses. “The crypt at Maria de Concezione would be a cool place to start…” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You KNOW Chewy would dig Sam Spade and if I'm wrong I refuse to believe it. 
> 
> Lastly I'm not ashamed of the million light and dark metaphors I'm dropping during this pining section because IT IS STAR WARS I HAVE TO. 
> 
> Team, things are about to start happening in a BIG WAY. We have three chapters left, which I cannot fathom or comprehend, and you continuing to read and comment makes me LOVE Mondays and Fridays. I heart you in a platonic online forum kind of way, and please have a safe weekend and come back on Monday for less pining and more Leia.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Ben considers his predicament, certain that the answer is lurking at the bottom of his glass of whiskey. 

Leia is hosting some horrible French siblings for a state dinner. Or maybe they’re Danish. It’s very fancy and the food will be microscopic, and all he wants is pizza. Ben waits patiently in the atrium to escort his mother in, standing to avoid creasing his dress uniform. 

Hux arrives first. Ben downs the rest of his glass and braces himself. 

“Could I interest you in a refill, cousin?” 

Ben hands over the glass, and Hux gestures to a porter who scurries away to refill Ben’s drink. They stand silently until Leia sweeps in, followed by Chewy. 

“Sweetie, you look wonderful.” She gives Ben an imaginary kiss on the cheek. To preserve her lipstick, of course. “Jean Ralphio and Mona Lisa will be so glad that you’re joining us.” 

“Of course, mother.” He sighs inwardly.  _ They are the worst.  _

_ Well, almost the worst _ he amends, as Hux reappears and forces another glass into his hand. 

“Drink it slowly, Solo” Hux mutters under his breath. “We don’t want another Rome incident.” 

Suddenly, it all clicks, like a montage from a detective show. He rounds on Hux. 

“What did you say?” 

Hux freezes, and plasters on a mask of confusion. Leia turns. 

“How did you know about me getting drugged in Rome?” Hux gapes like a fish, but Ben’s mind races forward.  _ The pictures. What was wrong with the pictures?  _

_ If Rey set me up, why are there no photos of me passing out? Or of that night? Everything starts the next morning. I _ _ f she did it, why are there no pictures?  _ The last piece clicks into place.

“You did it.” Ben turns back to Hux, jabbing him with a finger. He’s certain, and his anger transcends to a new level, beyond rage to a level of logic that is cold and calculating. “You got someone to drug me at the bar to embarass me. So you would have a clear shot.”

Hux is completely pale, and Ben instincts tell him there is more. “And you were going to do it again.” He squints, and looks at the glass in his hand. “Is this drugged, too?” 

His cousin wobbles. 

“Chewy,” Leia takes over, a supreme authority when it comes to crushing pathetic pretenders. “Search him.” 

Within minutes, something white has appeared from Armitage’s tux pocket. There are guards, and handcuffs. Someone has pried the second whiskey from Ben’s hands. 

He sits down heavily on a bench lining the corridor. Damn the uniform. 

Leia sinks down next to him. “Honey, I’m so sorry. But, he won’t come back.” Under her breath, she adds “I always hated that asshole.” 

When he doesn’t respond, she rubs circles on his back like when he was little. It’s soothing, rotation after rotation in non-concentric rounds. Like something is spinning unsteadily. 

“Mom,” he says, incredulous. “She saved me.” 

Leia waits. She can tell when there’s more, too. 

“Without Rey, Hux’s plan would have work and I would have … I would have been disgraced. I couldn't help people, I wouldn’t be …” he swallows. “I would be lost.” He sinks back into his thoughts. 

She stands, and turns to Chewy. 

“Put the G-6 on standby for Rome.” As his friend turns away, she interrupts him. “And Chewy -- punch it.” 

________________________

A stack of mail flops on Rey’s desk. Finn leans against the tabletop, and looks down at her with concern. When she doesn’t talk, he fills the silence. 

“Hey, I know that it was more than a story. I could see it through the lens. I’m sorry I didn’t stop it sooner. I was … I was a bad friend. I just didn’t think that you could feel that much in a day, Peanut.” 

She sighs. This is better than Poe offering to “kick some royal ass” daily for months, but people caring can really, really hurt. 

“I didn’t either. But --- I’ll get over it.” She cranes to look up at him. He remains unconvinced. “ _ I’ll get over it. _ ” 

Releasing the obtuse angle of her neck, Rey drops her head. Even she doesn’t believe herself. “You know, I just need one more day. I am going to go, and I’m going to to make my peace and leave this behind. I can’t -” her voice catches, and she decides to stop talking to her laptop, and be honest with her friend. Meeting Finn’s eyes, she clears her throat and tries again. “I can’t carry him like this forever.” 

Over his objections, she gathers her coat and keys, and heads towards the exit. It’s cold out, but she’ll manage. 

Finn looks down at the stack of mail he delivered, and something blue pokes out at him. He tugs the corner of a glossy postcard, addressed to Rey with a pointily scrawled “ _ Wish You Were Here. _ ” It’s unsigned. 

He flips it over. It’s from Naboo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWO CHAPTERS LEFT, CAN YOU HANDLE IT?! 
> 
> I for one, cannot handle it. 
> 
> Also, apologies to everyone who scoured the last chapter for a Parks and Rec reference based on my Chapter note. It is in THIS chapter. I still stand by my fandom-melding decisions in every way.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Rey goes back to the Spanish Steps. She sits and watches the fading sun move over the buildings, as the last of the day’s tourists pose for photos. 

She shifts comfortable as one of the evening’s last yellow beams warms her back. Rey waits there, watching, and thinking. This is where it started. This is where it has to end. 

Rey has no idea where to start. How do you un-love someone? She’s been doing a piss poor job of it, up until now. Stalking him on the internet, secretly sneaking looks at photos, making detours past their favorite places. It’s pathetic, really. 

She resolves to try harder. She closes her eyes, and pictures Ben’s face, sterile and blank of emotion. A small flicker rises, but she tamps it down. Now she makes the face smile. A flare. She pushes at it, wills herself to feel nothing, but the nudge breaks a dam, and all over again she’s back in that hopeless place, attached and entangled with the man who left her. Who didn’t want her for more than a day.  

She rubs her face with her palms, hard, to distract from welling tears.Her mind cries out to the universe.  _ Will I always love him? Do I have to? Will it always hurt this much? _

The universe has no answer.  _ Thanks a lot, universe.  _ She clasps her hands in her lap and closes her eyes to try again. 

She doesn’t know how long she’s been there when she realizes her back has gone cold. The sun must have moved. Or something is blocking it out. 

Or someone. 

“Do you know the fountain down there has a boat in it because in the 16th century, Rome flooded and a fishing boat washed up on this exact spot?” 

The voice is unmistakable, and the shadow is doubly so. 

Rey stands. She can’t turn and face him, and everything feels like it’s underwater. Even her voice comes out wavery. “I don’t believe it.” 

__________________________________________

When he finds her, she looks so alone. 

He searches his mind for what to say in this crucial, breakable moment. The symmetry of the thing is not lost on him, and once he pictures himself alone on the same steps, bowed and lost in thought, he knows. 

When she stands, she echoes his words back to him, and he sees a tiny tiny opening. A crack, where the light gets in. Years of diplomatic training, speech lessons, and foreign languages have left him unprepared as he casts about for what to say next. 

Etiquette takes over, as she turns to him, face shuttered. “I’m Prince Benjamin Chewbacca Organa Solo of Naboo. But you can call me Ben.” He pauses, knowing what’s next may very well break him. “Just… just Ben.” 

Her eyes fill with tears, shimmering over her defiance. “I was in love with someone named Ben, once. He thought I was a liar. So he left me and broke my heart.” 

“Rey.” The games are over now. She said ‘was’ and that is unacceptable to him. She can’t have stopped loving him. He can’t fathom it, bear it. He can’t leave this moment without her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It was Armitage, the whole time. He’s in jail now and … and you saved me.” 

She wasn’t expecting that. He sees her defenses drop, incrementally.  _ Would groveling be more effective if he was on his knees? _ He doesn’t rule out the option. “You saved me. If you hadn’t, the future of Naboo, all the people we can help, he would have ruined it. And…” He trails off as he studies Rey’s face, wary and hurt. He’s balanced on the edge of losing her, but Ben pushes on, determined to try every reckless trick and feckless ploy to keep himself from tumbling over. He’ll say anything. He’ll say it all. 

“And you saved me, Rey. You saved Ben.” He reaches for her, and thanks God when she lets him gather her small hand in his. “I’m in love with you, Rey. I love you, and I won’t stop. I can’t.” He brings her fingers to his lips, and murmurs against them, shaking his head. “I can’t.” 

Suddenly her arms are around his neck and he breaks. He buries his head in her shoulder and cries with relief. Petting her hair, her back, the fear that he’d lost her, that the light was gone forever, floods out of him in a tumbling cascade. “I love you.” He chokes around the words. He pulls back from the edge.

“I know.” She’s crying too. They cling together, embracing, releasing months of hurt. He was so close, he realized. So close to losing it all. 

“You idiot.” she says between sobs. “I love you so much, you stupid idiot.” 

“I’m sorry. I love you so much.” Laughing and crying, his face wet, his brain is glitching on the same loop. “I love you. I’m so sorry.” He’s euphoric, he’s hysterical, he’s smiling, and so is she. Together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of at a loss for words -- I've been leading you all towards this for so long and now that it is out there in the world, I'm so happy! I sincerely hope you enjoyed all of this. 
> 
> Also I _could not help my damn self_ and had to put a teeeeeeny shot of Han and Leia in here. I HAD TO, just like I HAD to make Ben a blubbering mess. You see, I really had no choice in the matter.
> 
> One more chapter left next Monday, and you better believe it will be worth it ;) I'm also going to post the first chapter of my new fic the same day -- it is in a different fandom (Arrow) but hey, maybe you want to keep reading stuff I write. That would be cool if you did. 
> 
> Have a great weekend :)


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

The door to Reys studio burst open with a bang of explosive proportions. Lowering the foot that had booted it open and probably took off a hinge, Ben hikes Rey up further around his waist and continues the brutal pace of kisses they started in the lobby.

_ Fucking stairs, _ Rey thinks, carding her fingers even deeper into Ben's hair, and pulling her nails along his scalp. If she had to ride him up another floor like that they would have been up against the wall in the  _ corridoio _ instead of in an apartment. 

After months of not feeling his mouth, feeling him fill her, Rey decides she will blacken both eyes if he drags her through another round of admittedly  _ excellent  _ foreplay. She strips him ruthlessly, then shoves him hard on her bed. Ben lays watching her, acutely aware that she’s in charge this time. It’s a heady kind of power, knowing someone like him is willing to lay himself out to her every whim. 

He’s thinner than she remembers, she observes as her shirt and pants follow his to the floor. His abs are more chiseled, the muscles in his legs are more defined. She wonders if he’s been to upset to eat. 

Rey’s going to feed him a hell of a lot of pasta after this. 

Snagging a condom, she climbs on top of him and rips it open with her teeth. He stifles a groan by biting his lip, his eyes locked on her. His hands lay at his sides, balled into fists at either side of her legs. He seems determined to let her lead, and the muscles in his neck tense with the effort. 

She smirks down at him as she rolls on the rubber. Maybe making him suffer a little would be okay. 

His erection pops free of her grasp and nudges her clit. She slides her hips forward slowly.  _ I’m so ready _ . She tilts her hips once and he’s buried inside her completely. Ben groans, low in his chest. 

_ Yeah,  _ Rey thinks.  _ He can suffer a little.  _

She relishes the way that she presses flat against him, and grinds her clit in little circles against his public bone, tiny orbits that make his eyes catch fire.  _ Maybe a little more _ . Rey brings her arms up, tucking her hands into her hair and bowing her elbows so she’s posing for him, exposed like a pinup. She continues working herself over him slowly, tacitly, and secretly loves the twitches of his hands with the effort of not touching her as her small breasts bob.

Rey has her way with the man that loves her longer than she cares to admit. It’s petty really, making him wait like this, but it really is his fault. And he’s being  _ so good. _ Ben doesn’t touch, but as she leads him on and on down this dirty, charged path, his thoughts bubble over. 

“Rey, you’re so beautiful. You’re perfect. Your breasts-- “ his tongue peeks out between his lips “- God they are magnificent. I love you so much.” 

The last one breaks her resolve. She needs more. She needs him. She always has. 

“Touch me, Ben.” 

His enormous hands immediate spring into action as she rides him harder, sliding like lightning up her body onto her breasts. He toys with her nipples and her cadence falters. His hands flash to her hips and they are moving together, him filling her over and over again as she controls the depth. She leans forward, hands on his shoulders until she finds just the right angle, and she knows she’s done for. 

Ben thrusts once, twice before they’re both confessing. 

"Ben, I’m - “ 

“Rey I can’t-” 

What happens next is frantic,and blinding. It’s powerful, so strong that it reforges a connection that blazes with light. They ride each other limp, as she collapses over him until their mouths share the same air.  _ I love you _ one of them murmurs. The other says it back. 

She’s not sure how the separate, or what happens to the condom. The last thing her mind registers is being crushed to Ben in his strong arms. He holds her, warm and real, and she thinks the cuddling might be better than the sex. 

Serious voice pipes up feebly from the discarded, logical part of her brain.  _ Yeah, right.  _

_____________________

“When do you have to leave?” 

The question is so small, so timid that Ben’s heart swells. This Rey is so different than the powerful, commanding woman who rode him last night. He loves them both. He’ll love all of the sides of her that she’s willing to show him. He keeps running his fingers through her hair where it’s pillowed on his chest, her body tucked against his in the light of the sunrise.

“Never.” His voice is low, quiet. “I’ll never leave you again.” 

She sighs. She’s had too many goodbyes to take him at his word. 

“How will that work, Ben?” He can see her, imagining something long-distance or protracted that involves him walking away, over and over. Leaving her with just hope, and promises that he’ll be back. Leaving her alone, again. 

He sets his chin, determined. He didn’t come back here to disappoint her; he came back to do  _ whatever  _ it took to keep her. She has to see that being separated is not part of this plan. 

“Well, I’m supposed to go to Nepal at the end of the week and meet the Dalai Lama. You can come if you want.” 

Her eyes widen, and then she pokes his ribs. She thinks he’s joking. 

“Then I have to do a tour of nursing homes in Naboo for about ten days, then go to Canada for a long weekend. I think things settle down for a while over the holidays, but this spring they’re planning a big thing with New Zealand. Their new prime minister is really cool.” 

Rey has gone still. Her brilliant mind has deduced that he’s not joking. At all. He continues, because he actually gave this some thought on the plane. The cabin was too small to pace, and he had to do  _ something _ .  

“You could write about it, if you want, on your own or as a part of the press corps, for La Rez. Maybe start your own travel blog, like your dad. Or you could write something else, maybe a book like your mom’s.” He pauses. “And you could marry me.” 

Her sharp inhale is visceral.  

Ben rolls to his side, and cups her hand between his, bringing it to his heart, and looks right into her eyes. “Rey, I love you. I am never leaving you again, for the rest of my life. If that means I stay in Rome and we get married tomorrow, or you travel the world with me and you’re never my wife, I just have to be with you. I can’t be all of me without you.” 

“Ben… I love you.” She pauses, and he knows there’s a but coming. “But -- it’s too much. You are  _ royalty,  _ and I’m-” 

“It won’t be simple.” he interrupts, because he absolutely cannot hear her say she’s not good enough. He just can’t. “There’s a lot of stuck-up people with ideas about tradition, but there’s a lot of nice ones too. You can meet Chewy, and my family.” He wipes away a little smirk at the thought.  _ Rey and Leia.  _

He meets her eyes again.  _ She’s freaking out.  _ “But I promise, I swear to you Rey, I’ll make you happy. If we can just be together, we’ll figure it out.” 

She closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths, and he closes his too, preparing for the worst. How have people the globe over taken this risk? It’s agony, only a second, stretching towards a million. 

“Yes.” 

“Yes?” Ben is incredulous, swept overboard with glee. He crushes her to him. “You’re saying yes? Really?” 

Rey laughs, wiggling in his arms. “Yes! Yesss!” She holds out the word for an extra beat, tilting up her chin and pointing her toes down like a diver, stretching against him like she’s electrified with happiness. 

His grin splits his face. “God, I love you so much. You have no idea what you’re in for.

“Because I’ll be a princess?” she jibes, batting her eyelashes at him jokingly.  

“Well, that,” he tilts his head playfully, considering, “but mostly because you haven’t met my mom.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four months (almost to the day) since I started, and I get to say it: The End. 
> 
> Thanks all for your kind comments and support! Next fic is in the Arrow Universe, and the first chapter posted today!


End file.
